11 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  Ben  B.  Lindsey 


TWO  AND  TWO 
MAKE  FOUR 


TWO  AND  TWO 
MAKE  FOUR 


BY 

BIRD  S.  COLER 


NEW  YORK 

FRANK  D.  BEATTYS  AND  COMPANY 
1912 


Copyright,  1912,  by 
BIRD  S.  COLER 


THE  DEVINNE  PRESS 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

Preface       vii 

I  Church  and  State 3 

II  What  Things  are  of  Caesar 15 

III  The  Birth  of  the  Papal  State 39 

IV  The  Middle  Ages 60 

V  Gregory  the  "Politician" 82 

VI  Two  French  Philips 103 

VII  The  Ghost  of  a  Spanish  King 125 

VIII  The  Daggers  that  were  not  Blessed  .     .     .153 

IX  The  Purpose  of  the  School 178 

X  Where  They  Blew  the  Light  Out .     ...  202 

XI  Socialism 216 

XII  The  Nation  under  God 232 


PREFACE 

TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

HOW  did  man  -learn  that  two  and  two  make 
four?  Did  he  discover  it,  or  was  he  told?  It 
is  an  interesting  question.  Some  very  cele- 
brated scientific  students  would  insist  upon  a  scheme 
of  life  which  identifies  this  knowledge  that  two  and 
two  make  four  with  a  certain  agitation  of  the  con- 
stituent atoms  of  the  brain.  These  scientific  students 
are  for  the  most  part  dead,  now,  it  may  be  worthy  of 
note,  and  the  celebrated  scientists  of  the  present  day, 
for  the  most  part,  have  a  different  idea  of  the  case. 

But  plain  men  can  very  well  leave  this  question  to 
warring  scientific  schools.  We  know  that  two  and 
two  make  four.  We  have  a  constitutional  difficulty  in 
assenting  to  any  statement  which  depends  upon  the 
supposition  that  two  and  two  make  five.  In  our  busi- 
ness a  five-dollar  obligation  will  not  be  satisfied  with 
a  two-and-two  settlement.  This  book  is  the  applica- 
tion of  this  very  primitive  logical  principle  to  history 
and  science.  It  is  the  use,  in  the  examination  of  his- 
torical statements  and  scientific  teachings,  of  the  com- 
mon sense  that  God  has  given  us. 

When  we  want  a  house  built  we  hire  a  good  builder, 
but  we  do  not  accept  the  house,  if  it  is  a  bad  house, 

[vii] 


PREFACE 

just  because  the  builder  was  a  good  builder.  Neither 
should  we  accept  a  historian's  conclusions  simply  on 
the  ground  that  he  is  reputed  to  be  a  good  historian, 
nor  a  scientist's  conclusions  simply  on  the  ground 
that  he  is  a  good  scientist.  "Your  researches  may 
have  been  extensive,"  we  may  say  to  both  of  them, 
"but  this  matter  of  two  and  two  is  not  a  matter  to  be 
upset.  We  do  not  know  about  those  things  you  have 
found  under  the  microscope,  Mr.  Scientist,  or  those 
things  written  on  ancient  parchments,  Mr.  Historian, 
but  we  know  that  two  and  two  make  four." 

The  reader  who  follows  me  through  these  pages 
will  find  some  questions  that  are  in  the  realm  of  his- 
tory, some  that  are  in  the  realm  of  sociology,  some 
that  are  in  the  realm  of  philosophy.  He  will  find  them 
just  as  I  found  them  in  my  study  of  the  causes  of  an 
obvious  and  unpleasant  fact.  The  public  schools  in 
this  country  are  not  making  for  righteousness.  There 
isn't  an  educator  of  any  note  in  this  country  who 
hasn't  admitted  this.  The  metropolis  of  this  country 
is  thug-ridden.  It  has  developed  a  new  type  of  crimi- 
nal, a  conscienceless,  fearless  young  brute  who  mur- 
ders for  hire,  and  recognizes  no  moral  accountability 
and  no  social  obligation.  "Gunmen"  and  murder- 
procurers  have  had  their  activities  exposed  in  court. 
There  is  a  similar  state  of  affairs  in  Paris.  Probably 
it  is  a  little  worse  there.  This  is  "two."  In  Paris  and 
in  New  York  there  are  godless  public  schools.  In 


PREFACE 

Paris  atheism  is  a  little  more  bold,  a  little  more  posi- 
tive,, than  in  New  York.   This  is  also  "two." 

The  relationship  of  the  godless  school  to  the  grow- 
ing viciousness  among  our  people  did  not  come  to  me 
as  a  religious  man.  As  a  practical  man,  a  public  offi- 
cer administering  a  municipal  office,  I  was  called  upon 
by  my  official  duties  to  pass  upon  the  expenditures  of 
public  money  for  charitable  purposes.  I  found,  as  a 
matter  of  cold  fact,  that  the  mortality  rate  in  state  in- 
stitutions for  the  care  of  the  weak  and  helpless  was 
terribly  high,  while  in  similar  institutions  under  the 
care  of  religious  bodies  it  was  quite  low.  This  inter- 
ested me,  and  an  inquiry  resulted,  which  revealed  the 
truth  that  in  the  care  of  the  helpless  those  who  have 
the  service  of  God  at  heart  are  more  efficient  than 
those  who  are  mere  servants  of  the  state.  If  this  were 
true  of  foundling-asylums,  why  not  of  schools?  Quite 
by  accident  the  obvious  relationship  between  the  god- 
lessness  of  the  public  school  and  the  poor  moral  and 
mental  character  of  its  products  forced  itself  on  my 
attention.  The  next  step  was  to  look  for  the  cause  of 
the  godlessness  of  the  public  school,  and  by  the  two- 
and-two  method  I  found  this  quite  clearly  in  view.  It 
was  a  prejudice  which  came  from  two  directions.  Fol- 
lowing it  to  its  source,  I  found  it  ultimately  political 
in  both  directions,  although  from  one  it  appeared  in 
the  disguise  of  a  religious  and  from  the  other  in 
the  disguise  of  a  philosophical  prejudice.  The  preju- 


PREFACE 

dice  from  the  second  direction  was  assuming  a  larger 
importance  because  of  the  pseudo-philosophy  back  of 
the  political  movement  that  embraced  and  developed 
it.  A  study  of  this  philosophy  by  the  two-and-two 
method  discovered  the  vice  at  the  heart  of  it.  Its 
operations  in  France  furnished  concrete  examples. 
There  it  had  boldly  attacked  all  religion.  There  and 
here  it  had  common  characteristics ;  there  and  here  it 
sneered  at  morality,  bitterly  assailed  religion,  and 
sought  to  gain  converts  by  divorcing  religion  from 
education.  That  this  is  not  an  accidental  but  an 
essential  part  of  the  movement  is  apparent.  John 
Spargo,  American  Socialist  writer,  in  his  "Socialism," 
says: 

"Whether  the  Socialist  regime  could  tolerate  the 
existence  of  elementary  schools  other  than  its  own. 
such  as  privately  conducted  kindergartens  and 
schools,  religious  schools,  and  so  on,  is  questionable. 
Probably  not.  It  would  probably  not  content  itself 
with  refusing  to  permit  religious  doctrines  or  ideas  to 
be  taught  in  its  schools,  but  would  go  further,  and,  as 
the  natural  protector  of  the  child,  guard  its  independ- 
ence of  thought  in  later  life  as  far  as  possible  by  for- 
bidding religious  teaching  of  any  kind  in  schools  for 
children  up  to  a  certain  age.  Beyond  that  age,  re- 
ligious education,  in  all  other  than  the  public  schools, 
would  be  freely  permitted.  This  restriction  of  re- 
ligious education  to  the  years  of  judgment  and  dis- 


PREFACE 

cretion  implies  no  hostility  to  religion  on  the  part  of 
the  state,  but  neutrality.  Not  the  least  important  of 
the  rights  of  the  child  is  the  right  to  be  protected 
from  influences  which  bias  the  mind  and  destroy  the 
possibilities  of  independent  judgment  in  later  life,  or 
make  it  attainable  only  as  a  result  of  bitter,  needless, 
tragic  expression." 

The  result  is  an  increase  in  illiteracy  in  France,  and 
a  deterioration  in  the  quality  of  education  here,  con- 
sidering the  matter  from  a  secular  standpoint ;  and  a 
riot  of  murder  and  lawlessness  in  Paris  and  New 
York,  considering  the  moral  aspect.  In  France  and 
here  an  emphasis  upon  eugenics  is  characteristic  of 
the  movement.  The  beloved  Darwinian  theory  of 
"natural  selection"  is  to  be  abandoned  for  a  theory  of 
artificial  selection.  The  result  in  France  is  an  alarm- 
ing fall  in  the  birth-rate.  Here  it  has  not  had  time  to 
work  out  yet,  but  there  are  signs.  The  two-and-two 
method  would  indicate  a  remarkable  resemblance  in 
results  between  eugenics  and  what  Colonel  Roosevelt 
calls  "race  suicide."  I  have  heard  of  the  marvellous 
subtlety  of  the  Jesuits,  but  they  could,  if  they  were  all 
their  enemies  conceive  them  to  be,  or  accuse  them  of 
being  or  having  been,  evolve  no  more  efficacious 
scheme  for  getting  rid  of  Protestantism  than  the 
preaching  of  eugenics  among  non-Catholics.  A  cen- 
tury and  a  half  of  eugenics  would  leave  the  Catholics 
in  possession  of  the  earth. 

Cxi] 


PREFACE 

And  this  brings  me  to  the  other  aspect  of  this  prej- 
udice. Its  study,  by  the  two-and-two  method,  has 
brought  me  face  to  face  with  a  great  church  and  the 
facts  of  its  history.  They  were  of  intense  interest  to 
me  because  they  were  new  to  me.  From  conventional 
history  I  had  acquired  the  conventional  Protestant 
view  of  this  church  and  its  relations  to  civilization. 
The  two-and-two  method  gave  me  a  new  view-point. 
I  found  that  this  church  had  been  a  defender  of  civil- 
ization in  the  past,  and  was  the  defender  of  civilization 
to-day.  That  was  not  conventional  history,  but  it  was 
the  truth,  and  as  the  truth  I  set  it  down. 

I  have  said  that  a  century  and  a  half  of  eugenics 
would  leave  the  Catholic  Church  alone  in  the  field.  A 
century  and  a  half  of  the  godless  school  would  leave 
the  same  church  in  complete  possession  of  Christian- 
ity; and  such  a  school  as  Spargo  says  will  be  compul- 
sory under  Socialism  would  put  that  church  to  the 
necessity,  under  which  the  early  fathers  labored,  of  re- 
sorting again  to  the  catacombs  in  order  to  protect  the 
faith  from  a  hostile  world.  I  have  little  respect  for  the 
strength  of  faith  of  those  members  of  my  own  creed 
who  fear  the  triumph  of  another  church  as  a  result  of 
religious  teaching  in  the  schools;  and  I  have  less  re- 
spect for  their  judgment,  for  it  is  plain  to  me  that 
Catholicism  can  stand  up  against  a  state-supported 
educational  system  from  which  God  is  excluded,  and 
equally  plain  that  Protestantism  cannot,  and  that  the 


PREFACE 

result  of  the  public  policy  so  many  Protestants  now 
blindly  support  will  be  a  complete  extinction  of  their 
branch  of  Christianity  and  a  division  of  the  world  of 
opinion  between  Catholicism  on  the  one  hand  and 
atheism  on  the  other. 


C*  •  •      M 
Kill] 


TWO  AND  TWO 
MAKE  FOUR 


TWO  AND  TWO 
MAKE  FOUR 


CHAPTER  I 

CHURCH  AND  STATE 

IF  you  stand  before  a  steam-boiler  you  will  see  a 
small  glass  tube  containing  some  water.     The 
water  in  the  tube  rises  and  falls.    This  is  a  gauge 
— the  proportion  of  the  water  in  the  tube  to  the  ca- 
pacity of  the  tube  is  always  the  proportion  of  the 
water  in  the  boiler  to  the  capacity  of  the  boiler.    You 
cannot  see  the  water  in  the  boiler,  but  this  is  an  un- 
failing index,  this  gauge;  never  higher  will  the  water 
rise,  visible,  in  the  tube  of  glass,  than  it  rises,  invisible, 
in  the  boiler. 

What  the  glass  tube  is  to  the  boiler,  such  is  the 
thing  we  call  the  government  to  the  mass  of  our  peo- 
ple. It  is  one  of  the  gauges  of  our  national  morality, 
one  of  the  many  indices  by  which  we  may  know  what 
is  the  average  of  morals  in  our  people.  There  are 
other  indices — commercial  life  is  one.  Never  will  gov- 
ernment rise  higher  morally,  nor  will  business  moral- 
ity make  a  higher  mark,  than  the  average  morality 
that  we  cannot  see,  nor  otherwise  measure,  in  this 
huge  mass  of  ninety  million  human  beings.  The  law 
of  balance  is  perfect — it  is  what  we  call  the  law  of 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

averages,  the  law  of  compensating  forces,  the  law  of 
the  conservation  of  energy,  the  law- of  gravity,  the  law 
of  harmonics.  We  have  many  names  for  it — one, 
which  is  comprehensive,  is  the  Eternal  Justice  of  God. 
That  is  at  the  heart  of  it;  that  is  why  all  these  laws 
that  we  meet  in  physics,  in  music,  in  chemistry,  in 
astronomy,  in  anything  whatsoever,  are  in  reality  the 
same  law.  Truth  is  true  universally. 

It  is  my  idea,  then — and  not  mine  alone  but  that  of 
many — that  a  good  citizen  must  be  first  a  good  man. 
I  do  not  mean  a  perfect  man,  any  more  than  I  mean  a 
perfect  citizen ;  human  nature  being  what  it  is,  we  can 
hope  for  neither.  But  I  do  mean  a  man  with  an 
impulse  in  the  right  direction  and  the  grace  to  be 
ashamed  of  what  things  wrong  he  may  do:  with  a 
developed  conscience. 

I  cannot  conceive  of  a  bad  man  being  a  good  citizen. 
By  a  bad  man  I  mean,  not  a  man  who  sins,  even 
though  his  sins  be  grave,  but  a  man  whose  impulse  is 
toward  sinning,  whose  conscience  lies  atrophied  and 
tongueless  in  his  breast,  who  cannot  be  said  to  have 
fallen  before  temptation  because  he  never  has  stood 
up  before  temptation. 

It  has  been  the  experience  of  the  human  race  that 
mere  intellectual  culture  does  not  vivify  a  conscience. 
It  must  be  inspired — breathed  into.  And  only  God 
can  breathe  life  into  it,  as  God  only  can  breathe  life 
into  anything  that  lives.  Behind  morals,  therefore, 
there  must  be  inspiration.  Behind  the  good  man 
there  must  be  the  idea  of  God. 

It  has  been  the  expressed  opinion  of  the  most,  and 
the  best,  educators,  and  students  of  education,  that 


CHURCH  AND  STATE 

this  thought  of  God  should  be  instilled  into  the  con- 
sciousness of  youth;  that  religious  education  should 
be  mingled  with  secular  education,  the  one  to  animate 
and  make  beneficial  the  other.  So  many  are  the  stu- 
dents of  life  who  have  declared  non-religious  educa- 
tion a  thing  dangerous  to  the  state  that  I  shall  not 
name  them  here;  enough  of  them  for  the  purpose  I 
shall  name  elsewhere. 

In  this  country  we  have  laws  making  education 
compulsory  because  we  believe,  and  the  fathers  of  the 
Republic  believed,  that  it  is  good  for  the  state  that  all 
its  rulers  should  be  intelligent.  The  compulsion  lies 
not  only  on  the  child  to  receive,  but  the  parent  to 
furnish,  and  not  only  the  parent  but  all  adults;  it 
being  the  theory  that  an  educated  people  is  a  state 
benefit  shared  in  by  all  the  citizens.  The  state  makes 
itself  the  agent  of  the  citizens  in  this  matter,  taking 
from  them  a  part  of  their  income,  as  John  Stuart  Mill 
points  out,  and,  with  the  fund  thus  obtained,  building 
school-houses  and  hiring  professional  teachers. 

The  system,  as  it  exists  at  present,  is  by  no  means 
what  was  planned  at  the  outset.  The  planning  was 
vague  and  meagre,  sufficient  unto  the  day  and  place ; 
what  we  now  have  is  something  that  has  been  shaped 
and  fashioned  by  developments  of  the  intervening 
years  which  were  not  thought  of  in  the  beginning. 
One  idea  with  regard  to  it,  which  had  to  do  with  other 
things  as  well,  found  a  place  in  our  fundamental  law, 
and  by  a  strange  misconception,  not  of  its  purpose  but 
of  its  operation,  it  has  come  to  operate  inversely.  The 
idea  was  that  public  funds  should  not  be  used  by  one 
creed,  or  religious  denomination,  to  the  prejudice  of 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

any  other;  that  there  should  be  no  discrimination 
against  any  religion.  Upon  the  perfectly  sound 
theory  that  a  discrimination  in  favor  of  any  religion 
would  be  a  discrimination  against  all  other  religions, 
we  have  done  a  most  unsound  thing ;  that  is,  we  have 
laid  down  an  iron  bar  of  discrimination  against  all 
religion.  The  engine  that  we  built  to  go  has  gone,  but 
instead  of  going  forward  it  has  gone  backward.  Our 
state,  that  was  not  to  discriminate  against  any  man's 
belief  in  God,  has  crushed  out  of  its  school  system  all 
belief  in  God. 

Our  effort  to  be  just  was  until  recent  years  univer- 
sally honest,  and  is  still  for  the  most  part  honest;  and 
this  outcome  is  quite  unexpected  and  perplexing. 
Men  at  the  head  of  our  educational  institutions  who 
have  no  desire  for  anything  like  this,  who  feel  the  evil 
of  it,  for  some  years  now  have  been  puzzling  their 
brains  in  an  effort  to  think  some  way  out.  They  have 
advanced  many  ideas :  first,  agreement  of  Protestant 
sects  upon  form  of  religion  to  be  taught;  then  agree- 
ment of  Protestant  and  Catholic  divisions  of  Chris- 
tianity; still  later,  agreement  of  Jewish  and  Christian 
leaders.  That  has  been  going  on  for  some  years,  but 
instead  of  getting  better  the  thing  gets  worse.  We 
are  so  many  denominations;  naturally,  there  can  be 
no  agreement.  Every  step  we  take  leads  away  from 
the  ideal,  every  change  is  one  in  the  direction  of  an 
absolute  divorce  of  religion  from  education.  How  is 
this  to  work  out?  Some  men  are  trying  to  substitute 
for  the  old  religious  inspiration  something  that  will 
check  the  spread  of  immorality.  It  is  to  be  ethical 
training — they  are  going  to  teach  ethics.  But  Dr. 

C6] 


CHURCH  AND  STATE 

Andrew  S.  Draper,  State  Commissioner  of  Education 
in  New  York,  remarks  dubiously,  "If  it  is  difficult  to 
separate  religion  from  morals,  it  is  dangerous  to  sepa- 
rate ethics  from  morals."  Dr.  Draper  is  struggling 
with  this  problem  from  his  own  standpoint — What 
are  we  going  to  do  to  make  our  present  public-school 
system  efficacious  morally?  In  his  Religion,  Morals, 
Ethics,  and  the  School,  published  by  the  New  York 
State  Education  Department  in  191 1,  he  speaks  of  the 
situation  in  France,  where  they  have  gone  the  full 
length  of  the  formula.  Read  what  he  has  to  say  and 
make  what  you  can  of  it.  Is  it  good?  Is  it  bad?  It  is 
hard  to  tell  just  what  Dr.  Draper's  conclusion  is  on 
the  whole  question.  But  it  cannot  be  wholly  good, 
for  he  finds  some  "trouble"  about  it.  "Political  and 
religious  freedom  have  been  enlarging  their  opportu- 
nities under  the  French  Republic,"  Dr.  Draper  says. 
"In  doing  so  they  have  been  seeking  education  that  is 
not  limited  by  the  dogmatic  teaching  of  a  church. 
And  thus  they  have  been  pulling  down  a  church  with- 
out reforming  it  or  putting  another  in  its  place.  It  is 
to  be  feared  that  this  has  been  destroying  faith  alto- 
gether. Instruction  about  the  moral  virtues  without 
faith  and  feeling  may  result  in  the  superficial  polite- 
ness which  is  perhaps  a  little  better  than  savagery, 
more  than  in  the  sound  character  that  is  infinitely  bet- 
ter than  either." 

This  is  Dr.  Draper's  opinion  with  regard  to  it. 
There  are  others  who  say  baldly  that  it  has  resulted  in 
the  savagery  itself;  we  shall  hear  them  later. 

But  what  concerns  us  now  is  that  our  machinery 
isn't  working  right;  it  isn't  doing  the  thing  we  builded 

C73 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

it  to  do.  And  it  won't  ever  do  it ;  it  will  always  get 
worse  and  worse;  and  the  more  swiftly  because  there 
is  a  new  force  at  work  which  this  machinery,  working 
backward,  suits  in  every  rod  and  wheel.  What  we  in- 
tended as  a  device  for  insuring  religious  liberty, 
Socialism  finds  admirably  adapted  to  its  work  of 
crushing  religion  out  of  existence  altogether,  in  order 
that  its  political  power  shall  grow  out  of  its  material- 
istic philosophy.  Under  the  skilful  operation  of  its 
Intellectuals  our  public-school  system  is  producing  a 
generation  of  atheists. 

Now  comes  the  question,  Are  we  wedded  to  the 
machine  or  the  ideal?  Are  we  going  to  give  each 
church,  as  each  man,  equal  opportunity  to  grow  and 
function,  or  are  we  going  to  make  religion  and  indi- 
vidual life  mere  state  functions? 

Some  of  our  churches,  seeing  the  trend  of  all  this, 
have  taken  steps  of  their  own.  The  Roman  Catholic 
Church  cannot  longer  see  its  children  attending  a  god- 
less public  school,  and  it  has  built  up  its  immense  sys- 
tem of  parochial  schools.  The  Lutheran  Church  is 
doing  the  same  thing  in  the  Middle  West ;  the  Hebrew 
congregations  are  doing  it  more  or  less  extensively; 
other  churches  are  doing  it,  here  and  there.  All  these 
schools,  furnishing  secular  education  of  as  good  a 
quality,  and  often  of  better  quality  than  the  state  fur- 
nishes, are  supported  by  private  contributions.  The 
communicants  of  these  churches  have  voluntarily  as- 
sumed a  burden  rather  than  risk  the  souls  of  their 
little  ones.  All  are  taxed  for  the  public  schools,  and 
they  are  thus  compelled  to  pay  for  a  system  of  educa- 
tion which  they  believe  to  be  bad  for  the  children  who 


CHURCH  AND  STATE 

receive  it  and  bad  for  the  state  that  furnishes  it,  as 
well  as  the  cost  of  the  schools  they  themselves  main- 
tain. The  believer  in  God  and  democracy  is  saying 
to  himself,  "This  American  Republic,  which  I  love 
and  would  preserve,  is  taking  a  part  of  my  income  to 
build  up  a  huge  campaign  fund  for  a  Politico-Philo- 
sophical Party  that  hates  it  and  would  destroy  it.  Is 
it  right?" 

It  isn't  right.  It  is  in  every  aspect  altogether 
wrong.  And  what  is  more,  the  way  to  stop  it  is  sim- 
ple and  obviously  just.  It  is  proposed  to  make  the 
education  of  each  child,  by  whomsoever,  the  unit 
basis  for  the  expenditure  of  funds  raised  for  school 
purposes.  It  is  proposed  that  if  a  church  furnish  edu- 
cation sufficient  to  enable  a  child  to  pass  a  state 
examination,  then  the  state  shall  pay  that  church  for 
the  work  done,  whether  that  church  be  Protestant  or 
Catholic  or  Hebrew.  It  is  proposed  to  pay  any  non- 
religious  organization  in  the  same  way  and  upon  the 
same  basis. 

In  these  payments  nothing  whatever  is  to  be  al- 
lowed for  sectarian  or  proselytizing  instruction.  It  is 
merely,  in  the  cases  of  churches,  the  hiring  of  God- 
believing  forces  to  do  .secular  work.  It  is  allowing  the 
plain  people  to  send  their  children  to  authoritative 
moral  schools  if  they  so  desire,  by  the  state  devoting 
that  part  of  their  wages  to  the  secular  support  of  such 
schools  which  they  themselves  would  naturally  em- 
ploy for  that  purpose  were  not  their  revenue  reduced 
by  state  school  taxation.  It  is  allowing  the  parents  to 
bring  up  their  children  in  the  faith  of  their  fathers 
without  compelling  them  to  submit  to  double  school 

[93 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

taxation  as  a  penalty  for  so  doing.  It  is  allowing  the 
parents  to  direct  the  use,  under  proper  supervision,  of 
that  portion  of  their  earnings  which  is  taken  from 
them  by  the  state  for  educational  purposes.  It  is 
compulsory  state  education  under  the  direction  of  the 
parent  as  to  that  part  of  it  which  is  moral.  It  is  not 
the  forcing  upon  the  children,  against  the  will  of  the 
parents,  of  state  socialistic  theories  by  teachers  of 
faiths  other  than  their  own,  or  of  no  faith  at  all. 

This  is  the  simple  plan  proposed  for  rounding  out 
the  education  of  the  youth  of  this  country ;  for  check- 
ing the  spread  of  materialism  and  its  dominance  in 
our  public-school  system.  It  is  the  only  plan  possible, 
it  seems  to  me,  in  a  state  whose  mighty  population  is 
divided  into  many  creeds.  It  is  unjust  to  no  denomi- 
nation ;  it  would  give  light  and  latitude  for  the  growth 
of  all  denominations. 

Why,  then,  if  this  plan  be  simple  and  just,  and  its 
object  on  all  hands  admittedly  desirable — nay,  more 
than  that,  necessary  to  the  continuing  righteousness 
and  strength  of  the  state — why  is  it  not  put  in  opera- 
tion? Why  do  not  those  who  admit  that  there  must 
be  some  moral  element  in  education,  who  admit  that 
it  is  not  there  now,  and  seek  in  many  places  for  some 
method  of  putting  it  there — why  do  not  they  give 
their  support  to  this  plan,  demanding  of  legislatures 
that  it  be  enacted  into  statutes,  telling  of  it  to  the 
people  until  the  people  unanimously  write  it  into  the 
fundamental  laws  that  are  made  at  first  hand  and  are 
called  constitutions?  What  stands  in  its  way? 

A  fear.  A  fear  that  was  born  of  a  prejudice.  A  fear 
that  is  strong  because  it  is  not  a  fear  of  the  ignorant 


CHURCH  AND  STATE 

and  the  thoughtless,  but  one  that  holds  in  its  grip 
men  of  culture,  men  who  have  read  widely  and 
thought  deeply.  It  prevails  among  these,  not  because 
they  have  failed  to  look  at  the  facts  of  history,  but 
because  they  have  accepted  a  false  theory  as  to  the 
meaning  of  those  facts.  It  is  not  ignorance,  it  is  a 
wrong  point  of  view.  And  the  point  of  view  was  the 
prejudice  out  of  which  this  fear  was  born. 

It  is  easier  to  name  this  fear  than  it  is  to  define  it; 
easier  to  tell  how  it  is  called  than  what  it  is.  It  is 
called  "Church  and  State."  If  I  ask  one  man,  "What 
is  'Church  and  State'?",  he  will  answer,  "The  Spanish 
Inquisition,"  and  it  may  strike  me  that  it  is  called,  not 
the  Church  Inquisition,  but  the  Spanish  Inquisition. 
If  I  ask  another  he  will  answer,  "St.  Bartholomew," 
and  I  wonder  if  the  Guises  were  the  Church  or  the. 
State.  I  shall  get  many  answers :  "Temporal  Sover- 
eignty," "The  Holy  Roman  Empire,"  "The  Concor- 
dat," "The  excommunication  of  Philip  Augustus" :  all 
ancient  and  modern  instances  of  supposed  Roman 
Catholic  ecclesiastical  interference  with  temporal  gov- 
ernment. 

None  answers  me  with  a  reference  to  the  union  of 
Church  and  State  under  Henry  VIII  of  England,  or 
the  German  Electors,  or  under  the  Czars  of  Russia.  It 
is  quite  plain  that  we  do  not  think  of  these  instances 
when  we  talk  of  "Church  and  State";  what  we  do 
think  of  is  a  Roman  Catholic  alliance  with  the  govern- 
ing power.  What  we  think  to-day  is  precisely  what 
was  thought  in  England  three  hundred  and  many 
years  ago,  when  it  was  reported  that  the  Jesuits  were 
welcome  guests  in  the  palaces  of  the  Stuarts.  The 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

viewpoint  has  come  down  to  us  unchanged,  and  it 
never  occurs  to  us  to  challenge  it,  to  question  whether 
it  was  right  or  wrong,  to  consider  whether  even,  if  it 
was  right  then,  it  may  not  be  utterly  wrong  now ;  for 
there  have  been  changes — the  state  does  not  now 
mean  what  it  meant  when  Louis  XIV  truly  expressed 
the  thought  of  monarchs  in  his  "L'Etat,  c'est  moi !" 

What  does  the  state  mean — here  and  now?  It 
means  you  and  me.  It  means  the  government  of  the 
people  by  the  people.  It  means  something  that  can- 
not become  subservient  to  any  creed  until  there  is 
among  the  people  a  substantially  unanimous  ad- 
herence to  that  creed. 

Even  if  the  church  desired  it.  And  does  the  church 
desire  it?  Has  the  church  ever  desired  it?  It  was  to 
the  political  advantage  of  rulers  and  parties  some  cen- 
turies ago  to  give  to  the  people  the  viewpoint  that  the 
church  did  desire  it.  It  was  to  their  political  interest 
to  picture  a  church  constantly  intriguing,  constantly 
reaching  out  for  temporal  power;  and  writers  of 
popular  history  were  influenced — in  most  cases,  I  be- 
lieve, honestly  and  unconsciously — by  the  national  or 
party  viewpoint,  and  read  into  history  a  meaning  that 
it  did  not  have  of  itself.  Historians  of  the  present  day 
are  beginning  to  recognize  the  error  of  that  viewpoint, 
the  fallacy  of  the  earlier  inferences,  and  to  clear  up 
some  of  the  confusing  conceptions  that  have  so  long 
clouded  the  vision  of  the  English-speaking  world. 
Without  extenuating  the  cruelty  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's bloody  massacre,  they  have  recognized  it  as 
the  punishment  by  a  prince  of  seditious  subjects,  a 
movement  that  was  base  and  bloody  and  political. 


CHURCH  AND  STATE 

Without  palliating  the  cruelty  of  the  Spanish  Inquisi- 
tion, they  have  recognized  it  in  its  cruellest  aspect  as 
a  national  rather  than  a  church  institution ;  something 
that  belonged  to  the  Spanish  character,  and,  follow- 
ing upon  the  freeing  of  Spain  from  the  yoke  of  the 
infidel,  was  inspired  more  by  personal  and  political 
vengeance  than  by  attachment  to  the  church.  It  was 
as  easy  for  a  politician  in  those  days,  using  religion  as 
a  mask,  to  have  an  opponent's  head  cut  off,  as  for  a 
political  boss  in  later  days  to  use  his  leadership  to 
deprive  an  enemy  of  his  livelihood. 

They  are  recognizing  the  political  significance  of 
the  status  of  the  papacy  prior  to  the  Reformation; 
they  are  understanding  that  the  interdict  laid  upon 
Philip  of  France  was  the  punishment  of  an  individual 
for  a  moral  wrong,  and  could  have  had  no  effect  what- 
soever were  it  not  for  the  assent  of  the  French  mon- 
arch's subjects  to  its  justice. 

We  do  not  have  to  wait  upon  the  historians,  how- 
ever, for  a  reasonable  view  of  the  meaning  of  history. 
If  we  are  furnished  with  the  facts,  we  can  form  our 
own  conclusions;  we  may  be  startled  to  find  them, 
when  formed,  far  away  from  those  we  have  been  ac- 
customed to  accept  as  they  have  been  handed  down  to 
us.  The  facts,  or  enough  of  them  to  serve  as  a  founda- 
tion for  proper  conclusions,  are  easily  obtained.  We 
need  not  seek  for  them  in  manuscripts  that  are  ob- 
scure as  to  meaning  and  difficult  of  access;  we  can 
accept  those  which  have  been  familiar  to  students  of 
popular  history  for  generations.  And,  if  we  wipe 
away  all  religious  prejudices,  all  preconceptions  of 
what  kind  soever,  and  simply  let  our  conclusions  grow 

[133 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

from  the  facts  before  us,  we  shall  find  those  conclu- 
sions within  striking  distance  of  the  truth.  The 
change  of  viewpoint  will  give  us  a  new  vision.  The 
whole  picture  changes  as  the  facts  of  history  re- 
arrange themselves,  falling  into  their  proper  places 
and  perspective,  and  we  are  astonished  to  find  how 
well  balanced,  how  symmetrical  the  whole  is. 


CHAPTER  II 

WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CAESAR 

IT  would  be  impossible  in  such  a  work  as  this  to 
treat  the  relationship  of  church  and  state  ex- 
haustively, to  follow  the  thread  through  the 
tangled  skein  from  the  beginning  up  to  the  present 
hour.  And  it  is  not  necessary.  If  we  test  a  stream  at 
various  points  and  find  the  water  sweet  at  every  point 
tested,  we  can  very  safely  assume  that  all  the  stream  is 
sweet.  If,  therefore,  wherever  we  touch  the  history 
of  the  church  we  find  an  insistence  upon  a  certain  pol- 
icy, we  may  as  safely  assume  that  that  policy  was 
fundamental  in  the  church  institution,  in  accord  with 
the  spirit  of  the  Redeemer  when  he  talked  to  the 
apostles.  That  insistence  we  do  find,  running  through 
entire  ecclesiastical  history.  It  breaks  out  at  the  very 
beginning  in  the  answer  of  Christ  to  the  Pharisees: 
there  are  things  that  belong  to  Caesar  and  things  that 
belong  to  God.  There  is  a  distinction  between  the 
church  and  the  state.  The  state  has  to  do  with  the 
comfort  and  convenience  of  man  in  this  world;  the 
church  has  to  do  with  his  eternal  salvation.  The  state 
concerns  itself  with  man  in  his  social  organization, 
the  church  with  his  individual  soul.  The  law  of  the 
state  rests  justly  upon  the  welfare  of  the  community ; 
the  laws  of  the  church  upon  the  mandates  of  the 
Creator. 
This  was  a  novel  idea  in  the  Roman  world  when 

CIS] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

first  Christianity  attracted  the  attention  of  men.  In 
all  the  pagan  world  religion  had  been  a  function  of  the 
state.  The  gods  of  Rome  were  officially  the  gods  of 
Rome.  Their  priests  were  government  officials,  the 
Roman  emperor  was  pontifex  maximus  of  the  Roman 
religion.  It  had  always  been  so  in  the  world  the 
Romans  knew.  Deities  were  national;  the  Greeks 
had  their  gods,  and  the  Carthaginians.  It  was  the 
political  aspect  that  first  made  Christianity  odious  in 
the  eyes  of  the  Roman  rulers.  The  offense  of  the 
Christians  was  that  they  were  obstinately  disobedient 
to  the  laws  and  disrespectful  to  the  gods  of  Rome. 
Their  sin  was  sedition.  That  was  why  they  were 
hated,  that  was  why  they  were  persecuted. 

In  the  days  of  the  early  Christians,  and  for  genera- 
tions before  that,  there  was  no  spirit  of  religious 
bigotry  among  the  Romans.  The  masters  of  the 
world  were  broad  in  their  worship ;  they  admitted  the 
gods  of  all  nations  to  their  temples.  But  they  were 
intensely  patriotic.  They  were  devoted  to  the  Roman 
laws.  And  the  offense  of  the  Christians  was  not  that 
they  worshiped  a  strange  God,  but  that  they  refused 
to  bend  before  the  Roman  law.  As  yet  the  people  of 
Rome  could  not  understand  the  distinction  between 
church  and  state;  they  were  all  one  in  the  Roman 
mind. 

It  took  centuries  to  get  the  new  idea  into  the  mind 
of  the  public.  Indeed,  there  is  doubt  as  to  whether 
the  work  has  yet  been  done.  But  the  idea  has  been  al- 
ways in  the  church.  It  taught  it  to  the  Romans  them- 
selves, to  the  slave  and  the  freeman,  the  beggar  in  the 
market-place,  the  tradesman  in  the  bazaar,  the  smith 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  C^ffiSAR 

in  his  forge,  the  soldier  in  the  field.  That  was  why, 
toward  the  end  of  the  pagan  dispensation,  Roman 
generals  found  Christians  among  the  bravest  and 
most  faithful  of  their  officers  and  legionaries.  The 
soldiers  of  Rome  were  attracted  by  the  high  courage 
of  the  Christians;  in  the  spirit  of  men  and  maidens 
who  could  die  smiling  for  a  faith  there  was  something 
akin  to  their  own  dauntless  spirit. 

Indeed,  long  before  Constantine  the  Christian  faith 
had  won  its  place  in  the  world.  Constantine  plucked 
the  ripened  fruit.  That  was  the  reason  the  Roman 
world  became  Christian  in  his  day ;  that  was  the  rea- 
son that  within  a  single  generation  a  proscribed  and 
treasonable  faith  became  the  faith  of  the  Roman  gov- 
ernment. 

The  fruit  had  been  ripening  for  more  than  three 
centuries.  The  pagan  gods  had  become  too  numerous 
to  be  respectable.  The  human  heart  knew  the  differ- 
ence between  good  things  and  bad  things:  a  proof 
more  conclusive  than  many  of  the  premises  of  so- 
called  scientific  philosophy  that  good  and  evil  are  facts. 
Under  the  gay  worship  of  Saturn  and  Bacchus,  and 
the  libidinous  devotion  to  Venus,  there  was  among  the 
pagan  peoples  a  strong  moral  sense  that  made  it  diffi- 
cult to  adore  such  divinities.  Greek  and  Roman  had 
felt  this :  the  Greek  because  his  intellectual  nature  de- 
manded virtue  and  justice  in  a  god  as  a  matter  of 
logic ;  and  the  Roman  because  he  was  at  heart  a  sober, 
continent  being.  In  other  words,  before  the  revela- 
tion came  to  either,  the  mind  of  the  Greek  and  the 
heart  of  the  Roman  knew  what  a  God  was  like.  They 
had  pieced  together,  after  a  fashion,  the  necessary 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

attributes  of  divinity  until  they  had  the  outline  of  the 
Portrait 

They  had  got  beyond  the  stage  at  which  philosophy 
hails  worldly  happiness  as  the  sum  of  good.  In  the 
upward  march  their  philosophy  had  accepted  the 
necessity  of  suffering  and  sacrifice;  had  grasped  the 
truth  that  indulgence  cannot  be  ennobling.  Our 
Rationalists,  and  particularly  our  Socialistic  Rational- 
ists, are  going  in  the  other  direction;  their  trend  is 
toward  that  barbarism  from  which  the  old  philosophy 
was  then  emerging  to  meet  the  Truth. 

In  the  East  humanity  groped  with  speculative 
hands  for  something  solid  in  a  fluid  universe;  some- 
thing fixed  in  a  world  of  motion;  something  stable  in 
a  world  of  change;  something  that  would  endure 
while  all  else  was  disintegrating.  The  mind  of  the 
Roman,  less  given  to  speculative  exercises,  still  sought 
something  which  would  make  men  strong  in  body  and 
in  soul.  The  message  of  the  Christian  apostles  met 
the  need  of  both;  it  fulfilled  the  Greek's  speculative 
yearning ;  it  gave  the  food  for  soul  and  body  that  the 
Roman  demanded.  And  it  gave  more  than  either  de- 
manded. For  the  first  time  these  peoples  felt  the  glow 
of  a  religion  that  was  on  fire.  For  the  first  time  a  liv- 
ing force  that  was  not  of  the  earth  touched  them  and 
stiffened  their  moral  muscles  for  the  work  that  was  to 
be  done.  They  were  lifted  up  and  driven  forward ;  high 
courage  emboldened  their  hearts  and  a  divine  efful- 
gence lighted  their  minds.  First  in  the  hidden  places 
underneath  the  ground,  then  in  private  houses,  and  at 
last  in  their  own  temples,  they  gathered  in  increasing 
numbers  to  worship  Jesus  Christ 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  C^SAR 

With  a  little  thought  and  a  little  knowledge  we  can 
get  the  spirit  of  that  time  and  understand  the  senti- 
ment of  the  pagan  world  with  regard  to  the  new  faith. 
It  was  known  that  it  had  been  born  in  Judea,  and  the 
first  impression  was  that  it  was  Jewish  in  its  entirety. 
Then  there  was  some  confusion  because  the  recog- 
nized leaders  of  the  Jewish  world  became  the  most  bit- 
ter of  its  foes  and  the  most  cruel  of  its  persecutors. 
It  found  its  first  converts — Gentile  converts — where 
the  need  of  justice  is  always  the  greatest :  among  the 
poor  and  the  lowly.  The  essential  democracy  of  it 
made  it  strong  among  the  common  people ;  it  was  an 
inspiring  thought  for  the  despised  laborer  and  the 
down-trodden  slave  that  in  the  eye  of  God  he  was 
the  equal  of  emperor  or  master.  We  are  all  the 
children  of  God,  of  whom  he  loveth  one  not  more  than 
another. 

Among  the  great  and  influential  it  was  still  re- 
garded as  not  only  a  foreign,  but  a  vulgar,  supersti- 
tion. The  philosophers  of  the  time,  the  men  whose 
comments  give  us  the  light  we  have  on  the  thought 
and  manners  of  their  day,  were  amazed,  as  was  Pliny, 
at  the  obstinacy  of  the  new  teachers  in  their  refusal  to 
obey  the  Roman  law  with  regard  to  the  worship  of 
the  Roman  gods. 

But  little  by  little  the  Roman  world  was  being  won, 
trusted  slaves  were  telling  their  virtuous  masters  the 
story  of  Bethlehem  and  Calvary,  scholars  were  begin- 
ning to  read  the  letters  of  Paul,  soldiers  were  hearing 
around  the  camp-fire  of  the  devotion  and  the  courage 
of  the  new  sectaries.  By  channels  multifarious  and 
devious  the  new  faith  was  working  its  way  in  the 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Roman  body  politic.  The  rude  hostility  of  the  mob, 
and  the  philosophic  contempt  of  the  wealthy  and  the 
educated,  were  gradually  being  overcome.  Men  great 
in  the  sanctity  of  their  lives  had  been  leaders  of  the 
church  from  the  first,  but  soon  they  became  great  also 
in  other  respects — great  in  courage,  great  in  mental  as 
well  as  moral  strength.  No  longer  the  Christians 
worshiped  underground.  They  began  to  build 
churches  on  the  surface,  and  the  churches  were 
crowded.  Their  organization  followed  the  Roman 
eagles  over  the  world ;  there  was  the  church  in  Rome, 
the  church  in  Asia,  the  church  in  Alexandria.  Their 
priests  preached  the  gospel  of  Christ  to  the  veteran 
warriors  who  held  the  Caledonian  wall  in  far-off 
Britain,  as  well  as  to  those  who  faced  the  Parthians  in 
the  East  and  those  others  who  watched  the  Germanic 
barbarians  in  the  long  marches  beyond  the  Rhine. 
Great  orators  spoke  from  the  Christian  pulpits  and 
marched  boldly  into  the  courts  of  the  Caesars  to  plead 
the  church's  cause  to  the  emperors  themselves.  The 
cry  of  the  mob  was  no  longer,  "To  the  lions!"  "God 
and  the  Mother  of  God !"  became  a  well-known  street 
cry  in  Rome  and  the  Roman  dependencies.  Persecu- 
tions were  periodical,  not  constant;  in  the  periods  of 
non-molestation  the  church  developed  its  organiza- 
tion and  builded  its  great  temples.  Half  the  popula- 
tion of  Alexandria  filled  the  streets  in  protest  against 
the  persecution  of  their  bishop. 

It  has  long  been  a  matter  of  controversy  as  to 
whether  the  conversion  of  Constantine  was  a  real  con- 
version, or  merely  the  far-sighted  move  of  a  consum- 
mate politician.  We  Protestants  have  been  wont  to 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CESAR 

upbraid  our  Catholic  brethren  for  the  honor  in  which 
they  have  held  the  name  of  Constantine.  It  has  been 
charged  that  his  glorification  by  the  church  was  due 
very  largely  to  the  material  benefits  he  conferred  upon 
the  bishops.  Quite  enthusiastically  we  have  gone 
about  the  work  of  showing  him  to  be  not  a  great 
saint,  but  a  great  sinner.  In  the  meantime  we  have 
quite  overlooked  the  fact  that  a  considerable  number 
of  us  Protestants,  who  are  not  Mormons  either,  have 
overlooked  the  peccadilloes  of  Henry  VIII,  because  of 
his  services  to  the  Protestant  cause.  What  matters  it 
now,  save  perhaps  to  Constantine  himself,  whether  he 
was  a  great  saint  or  a  great  sinner?  He  was  probably 
both;  the  sins  and  the  virtues  of  his  time  were 
extreme. 

The  truth,  in  all  likelihood,  is  that  Constantine  was 
influenced  by  both  political  and  religious  motives  in 
accepting  the  new  faith.  His  inclination  from  child- 
hood had  been  in  that  direction.  Constantius,  his 
father,  was  a  friend  of  the  Christians,  and  the  favorite 
officers  of  that  beloved  general  professed  the  new 
faith.  When  he  died  and  the  British  legions  elevated 
his  son  and  invested  him  with  the  purple  at  York, 
many  of  the  sober,  disciplined  veterans  who  raised 
him  aloft  and  saluted  him  as  Caesar  were  worshipers 
of  Christ.  Looking  across  the  wide  reach  of  Roman 
dominion,  he  could  see  dangers  ahead,  and  the  mind 
of  so  shrewd  a  student  of  men,  so  able  a  politician, 
could  hardly  overlook  the  advantage  of  an  alliance 
with  a  church  whose  organization  threaded  every  part 
of  the  Roman  world,  whose  followers  were  among  the 
bravest  and  the  best  in  every  Roman  legion.  Side  by 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

side  with  this  was  his  temperamental  inclination.  His 
was  a  great  mind,  and  it  revelled  in  the  glory  of  the 
Christian  faith.  His  intellect  and  his  heart  were  at- 
tracted, his  interest  was  engaged ;  all  things  worked 
together  to  make  him  a  Christian. 

But  there  had  been  bred  in  the  bone  the  old  Roman 
tradition  that  the  state  was  supreme;  that  the  church 
was  its  servant.  The  new  conception  maintained  it- 
self in  his  mind  with  difficulty ;  his  lips  gave  support 
to  it,  but  time  and  again  the  impulse  to  control  the 
organization  of  the  church,  to  bend  it  to  compliance 
with  his  own  will,  manifested  itself ;  and  this  was  re- 
sponsible for  the  beginning  of  that  long  contest  be- 
tween church  and  state  which  has  never  ceased.  This 
was  the  occasion  for  the  first  conspicuous  assertion 
by  the  church  of  the  doctrine  that  there  are  things 
that  are  of  Caesar  and  things  that  are  of  God ;  that  be- 
tween the  functions  of  the  state  and  those  of  the 
church  there  is  a  real  distinction. 

It  is  not  difficult  to  understand  the  mental  attitude 
of  the  first  of  the  Christian  emperors.  His  father  had 
been  a  soldier  of  the  old  Roman  type,  strong  in  mind 
and  body  and  austere  in  habit  and  thought.  The 
Greeks  were  marble,  the  Romans  granite,  men.  Con- 
stantius  had  all  the  Roman's  lofty  and  stern  contempt 
for  the  softer  things  of  life ;  the  indulgences  of  the  stay- 
at-homes  had  no  charm  for  the  stalwart  soldier  of  the 
empire,  whose  business  it  was  to  keep  unbroken  the 
outer  line  of  the  Roman  domain.  The  traditions  of 
old  Rome  were  dear  to  him,  and  the  ideals  to  which  he 
held  himself  he  set  up  for  his  son.  For  him  the  old 
gods  were  respectable  because  they  were  the  national 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CAESAR 

gods;  for  him  religion  was  part  of  the  business  of  the 
state.  Indeed,  the  state  he  served  was  his  whole  life; 
a  glory  greater  than  the  national  glory  he  could  not 
understand,  a  power  greater  than  the  civic  power  was 
not  conceivable. 

Constantine  grew  up  under  his  father's  eye  and 
under  his  father's  tutelage.  He  inherited  the  tradi- 
tional conception  of  the  supremacy  of  the  state.  It 
was  bred  into  his  being,  and  it  outcropped  many  times 
in  those  later  days  when  he  had  become  the  sole  and 
supreme  ruler  of  the  Roman  world  and  the  imperial 
patron  of  the  Christian  church.  In  his  repeated  ex- 
pressions that  he  was  a  priest  of  the  church,  that  he 
was  its  soldier  and  its  guard,  we  can  see  the  effort  he 
was  making  to  bring  his  mind  into  consonance  with 
the  doctrine  of  the  church;  but  in  his  attempt  to  gov- 
ern the  bishops,  in  his  letters  upon  matters  of  doctrine 
to  the  warring  African  ecclesiastics,  is  observable  the 
old  tradition,  the  hereditary  temper,  against  which 
the  church  made  its  early  protest.  Again  and  again 
it  was  pointed  out  to  the  imperial  convert  that  in  mat- 
ters of  policy  and  organization  his  advice  and  assist- 
ance were  welcome  and  his  commands  enforceable; 
but  that  in  matters  of  doctrine  he  must  abide  by  the 
law  as  revealed. 

Constantine's  conversion  was  proclaimed  on  his 
march  from  Gaul  to  Rome  in  the  year  312.  He  was 
then  one  of  the  three  Caesars  who  governed  the  Ro- 
man world.  But  a  year  before  the  last  of  the  great 
persecutions  had  been  officially  closed  by  an  edict  is- 
sued in  his  name  and  that  of  his  senior  colleagues, 
Galerius  and  Licinius.  In  fact,  it  had  closed  before 

[23] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

that;  there  had  not  been  for  some  years  any  attack 
upon  the  Christians  by  the  government,  but  neverthe- 
less the  Roman  law  was  affirmatively  a  hostile  law, 
and  the  Christians  lived  in  peace  only  because  it  was  a 
sleeping  statute  within  twelve  months  of  the  public 
announcement  of  the  young  emperor's  conversion.  It 
is  strange  to  read  the  name  of  Galerius  at  the  foot  of 
the  edict  of  toleration  that  killed  the  sleeping  statute, 
for  it  was  Galerius  who  inspired  the  persecution  of 
Diocletian,  and  it  was  the  same  rude  graduate  of  the 
camp  who  sullenly  yielded  to  the  logic  of  the  chang- 
ing hour  and  was  forced  to  acknowledge  that  the  ob- 
stinate adherents  of  the  new  faith  could  not  be 
brought  back  to  the  gods  of  old  Rome:  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  had  so  far  extended  their  influence  that 
continued  persecution  had  no  other  significance  than 
the  proscription  of  perhaps  a  majority  of  the  Roman 
people.  Tormented  by  disease,  perplexed  by  the  ever- 
increasing  might  of  the  religion  he  could  neither 
understand  nor  destroy,  the  beaten  Roman  bowed  his 
obstinate  head  to  what  he  had  come  to  recognize  as 
the  inevitable,  and  in  substance  said  what  Julian  was 
to  say  later,  "The  Galilean  has  conquered."  For  the 
strong  arm  that  had  been  Rome's  boast,  the  sword 
that  had  been  a  staff  that  never  failed  her,  were  un- 
availing against  Christianity,  and  Galerius  knew  of 
no  other  weapon. 

Following  upon  the  first  edict  of  toleration  came  a 
second,  signed  at  Milan  by  the  Christian  Constantine 
and  the  pagan  Licinius,  and  the  accelerated  transition 
from  the  old  order  to  the  new  is  illustrated  in  the 
warmer  tone  of  the  Milan  decree.  No  longer  is  it  a 

[24] 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CESAR 

precarious  privilege  which  the  Christians  are  to  enjoy, 
but  a  free  and  unconditional  right. 

There  was  more  than  the  edict  itself  might  indicate. 
A  Christian  emperor  was  now  well  on  the  road  to  su- 
preme power  in  the  state,  and  his  zeal  for  the  religion 
he  professed  influenced  in  growing  degree  the  policy 
of  the  government. 

The  immediate  effect  upon  the  church  organization 
was  profound.  Hitherto  the  ecclesiastical  office  had 
been  one  of  labor  and  of  danger.  The  bishop  occupied 
a  perilous  eminence ;  his  breast  was  the  target  of  the 
arrows  of  the  enemies  of  the  church.  Upon  his  head 
the  state  visited  its  punishment  of  the  church.  The 
rewards  of  his  office  were  not  measured  in  the  wealth 
of  the  world.  Now,  there  was  a  precipitous  change : 
no  longer  was  there  danger  from  the  agencies  of  the 
state,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  the  whole  power  of  the 
state  was  exercised  in  the  protection  of  the  bishop. 
No  longer  was  he  without  influence  in  the  civil  tribu- 
nals :  his  words  were  potent  in  the  ears  of  the  mighty 
ones  of  earth.  No  longer  was  he  the  persecuted 
priest,  but  a  powerful  prelate  in  whose  anterooms 
waited  a  constantly  increasing  crowd  of  clients,  as  the 
greed  and  the  ambition  of  the  Roman  world  turned  to 
face  the  rising  sun.  The  lustre  of  the  pagan  temples 
was  dimmed,  the  secular  glory  of  the  Christian  church 
grew  constantly  more  effulgent. 

Inevitably  came  the  evils  inseparable  from  such  a 
condition.  The  flood  of  worldly  honor  and  material 
wealth  swept  from  their  feet  some  of  the  churchmen, 
and  the  episcopal  office  became  vastly  important  from 
a  political  standpoint.  If  the  church  were  the  road  to 

[25] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  affections  of  a  prince  whose  favor  was  so  produc- 
tive of  earthly  riches,  then  be  sure  that  those  who 
sought  the  riches  of  earth  took  the  road  that  led 
thereto. 

Not  always,  then,  did  the  bishops  draw  clearly  the 
line  between  what  Constantine  might  legitimately  do 
and  what  he  might  not  do.  These  old  priests  were 
human,  they  were  grateful  to  the  prince  who  had  left 
the  old  national  belief  to  bow  his  head  before  the  true 
God,  and  some  of  them  turned  to  him  for  advice  on 
subjects  which  lay  without  his  domain.  But  although 
some  of  them  did  this,  not  all  of  them  did,  and  the 
church  itself  never  conceded  to  him  the  right  to  pass 
upon  questions  of  doctrine.  It  was  always  the  schis- 
matic who  appealed  from  the  synod  to  the  emperor; 
the  orthodox  church  held  always  to  the  unchanging 
truth  of  the  doctrine  deposited  with  it. 

Constantine  understood  this  attitude  of  the  church, 
but  his  zeal  to  prevent  strife  among  Christians  upon 
points  which  seemed  to  him  immaterial,  coupled  with 
the  imperious  temper,  led  him  from  time  to  time  to 
overstep  the  boundary  line  between  his  legitimate 
sphere  of  influence  and  that  of  the  church.  "I  am  in  a 
sense  a  bishop,"  he  said  once,  "but  a  bishop  of  the  ex- 
ternal." Again,  when  the  Donatist  schismatics  ap- 
pealed to  him  from  the  decision  of  the  Synod  of  Aries, 
he  exclaimed :  "They  demand  judgment  of  me— of  me 
who  await  the  judgment  of  Christ !  But  I  say  the  judg- 
ment of  priests  ought  to  be  regarded  as  if  the  Lord 
himself  sat  in  the  tribunal.  What,  then,  do  these  wicked 
men,  truly  instruments  of  the  devil,  mean?  They  in- 
stitute an  appeal  in  this  as  in  a  purely  civil  case." 

[26] 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CESAR 

This  Donatist  controversy  was  one  of  the  first 
political  troubles  that  vexed  the  early  church.  Caeci- 
lian  had  been  elected  bishop  of  Carthage,  and  his 
enemies,  of  whom  he  seems  to  have  had  quite  a  num- 
ber, conspired  to  oust  him  from  the  place.  Their  zeal 
seems  to  have  increased  as  the  office  became  more  im- 
portant politically,  and  there  was  intervention  on  the 
part  of  outside  forces  who  deposed  the  bishop  and 
elected  one  Donatus  in  his  place.  Throughout  the 
Christian  world  this  proceeding  was  regarded  as  il- 
legal; on  the  question  of  the  legitimacy  of  Caecilian 
and  his  innocence  of  the  charges  brought  against  him 
by  the  Donatists,  the  church  authorities  were  all  in 
concord.  This  was  proven  when  the  Gallic  bishops 
concurred  with  the  Roman  pontiff  in  the  Lateran 
Council,  convoked  at  the  request  of  the  emperor,  who 
explained  in  a  letter  to  Pope  Miltiades  that  his  pur- 
pose was  to  prevent  a  schism  in  the  church.  Its  ruling 
did  not  satisfy  the  Donatists,  and  in  response  to  their 
importunities  the  emperor  had  a  second  synod  con- 
voked— the  Synod  of  Aries.  It  assembled  in  314  and 
made  short  work  of  the  Donatist  case.  Once  more  the 
defeated  party  appealed  from  the  ecclesiastical  to  the 
civil  power,  and  it  was  this  appeal  that  drew  from 
Constantine  the  indignant  exclamation  quoted  above. 
But  the  habit  of  command  was  strong  in  his  blood; 
notwithstanding  his  Christian  abhorrence  of  an  ap- 
peal to  the  secular  power  in  ecclesiastical  matters,  he 
did  give  a  hearing  to  the  pertinacious  Donatists — a 
hearing  which  resulted  in  a  civic  confirmation  of  the 
ecclesiastical  decrees  condemning  the  enemies  of  the 
Carthaginian  bishop.  Although  his  decision  was  with 

[27] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  orthodox,  it  is  none  the  less  true  that  he  assumed 
against  the  doctrine  of  the  church  the  right  of  review. 

If,  in  the  first  instance,  the  imperial  power  backed 
up  the  orthodox  church,  however,  it  did  not  do  so  in 
the  second  instance;  that  is,  ultimately  Constantine 
was  opposed  to  the  church,  although  he  may  have 
been — and  indeed  the  evidence  is  that  he  was — uncon- 
scious of  that  opposition. 

Arius,  a  priest  of  Alexandria,  began  during  the  sec- 
ond decade  of  the  fourth  century  to  preach  a  doctrine 
upon  which  was  based  the  first  considerable  division 
in  the  Christian  church.  It  was  in  effect  that  Christ 
was  not  coordinate  with  God  the  Father,  but  was 
merely  the  first-born  of  his  creatures.  This  was  de- 
clared by  the  church  a  denial  of  the  divinity  of  its 
Founder,  and  Alexander,  the  bishop  of  Alexandria, 
took  steps  at  once  to  silence  the  heretical  expounder. 
The  eloquence  of  Arius,  however,  and  the  eagerness 
of  the  public  for  novelty  in  an  age  of  great  and  rapid 
vicissitudes  of  belief,  gave  to  the  preacher  of  the  new 
doctrine  a  popular  following  not  inconsiderable,  and 
he  refused  to  retract  at  the  command  of  his  bishop. 
Two  bishops,  Secundus  of  Ptolemais  and  Theonas  of 
Marmarica,  took  up  cudgels  for  the  disobedient  priest 
and  defended  his  cause  in  the  synod  of  the  bishops  of 
Egypt  and  Libya,  convoked  by  Alexander  to  consider 
the  case.  This  synod,  held  in  Alexandria  about  321, 
condemned  the  doctrines  of  Arius  and  excommuni- 
cated him  and  the  two  bishops  who  espoused  his 
cause. 

Complaining  that  he  was  suffering  from  the  per- 
secution of  his  bishop,  Arius  fled  to  the  eastern  prov- 

[28] 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  OZESAR 

inces.  Here  he  sought  the  protection  of  the  favorites 
of  Licinius,  the  rival  and  the  colleague  of  Constantine. 
Among  the  converts  he  made  was  Eusebius,  bishop  of 
Nicodemia  and  powerful  in  the  court  of  the  Eastern 
emperor.  The  influence  of  Eusebius  gave  Arius  a 
welcome  among  the  Eastern  bishops,  and  he  soon 
numbered  many  of  them  among  his  supporters.  Al- 
ready there  had  broken  out  that  disagreement  be- 
tween Constantine  and  Licinius  which  was  to  progress 
so  swiftly  to  a  civil  war ;  and  as  the  eastern  and  west- 
ern sections  of  the  empire  took  up  arms  for  the  politi- 
cal contest,  so  did  the  Roman  world  divide  on  the 
question  raised  by  the  preaching  of  Arius.  The 
bishops  of  the  East  held  a  synod  in  Bithynia,  and  sent 
forth  a  request  to  "all  the  bishops"  to  hold  commu- 
nion with  the  Arians.  Armed  with  the  letter  of  his 
friends  of  the  East,  Arius  returned  to  Alexandria,  but 
the  bishop  of  the  African  metropolis  refused  to  re- 
ceive him  into  the  communion  of  the  church. 

Meanwhile  the  war  had  broken  out  and  terminated, 
and  Constantine,  victorious  over  Licinius,  and  now 
supreme  ruler  of  the  whole  Roman  world,  learned  of 
the  division  in  the  Alexandrian  church.  His  preoccu- 
pation in  military  affairs  had  prevented  him  either 
from  knowing  or  from  understanding  the  point  in 
dispute,  and,  annoyed  that  the  politically  unified  em- 
pire should  be  ecclesiastically  divided,  he  addressed  a 
letter  to  Alexander  and  to  Arius,  urging  them  to  con- 
ciliation since  the  cause  of  their  quarrel  was  not  of 
importance,  as  he  understood  the  matter. 

But  here  was  a  question  more  serious  by  far  than 
the  Donatist  matter.  The  former  controversy  had 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

been  mainly  of  church  organization;  this  was  doc- 
trinal. Alexander  refused  to  accede  to  the  imperial 
wish;  there  could  be  no  communion  with  an  Arian  in 
the  orthodox  church.  One  can  imagine  the  surprise 
of  the  emperor  when  word  of  this  was  brought  to  him. 
It  was  one  thing  to  advance  the  theory  that  the 
church  was  free  in  matters  of  faith;  it  was  quite  an- 
other thing  for  any  subject  to  reject  the  plea  of  his 
ruler.  The  Christian  patron  of  the  church  and  the 
Roman  ruler  were  brought  face  to  face  suddenly,  like 
the  images  in  and  before  a  mirror.  But  it  was  the 
Christian  theorist  who  was  in  the  looking-glass;  it 
was  the  Roman  ruler  who  stood  in  flesh  and  blood  and 
thought  and  felt.  And  it  was  in  the  breast  of  the  Ro- 
man emperor  that  there  was  born  a  very  human  and 
altogether  unchristian  dislike  of  the  Alexandrian 
church,  which  was  to  have  its  consequences  later. 

The  alert  mind  of  Constantine  doubtless  ran  over 
the  measures  possible  under  the  circumstances.  He 
could  use  violence,  the  old  weapon  of  the  state,  against 
Alexander,  but  this  might  mean  warfare  with  the 
church  he  had  so  recently  joined  and  a  reversal  of  the 
whole  policy  which  had  elevated  him  to  the  greatest 
of  worldly  eminences.  He  decided  against  that.  He 
must,  even  if  his  motives  were  wholly  worldly  and 
selfish  (and  in  strict  justice  to  him  let  us  admit  that 
they  may  have  been — indeed,  in  all  probability  were — 
unselfish  and  religious),  find  a  means  of  accomplish- 
ing his  purpose  without  destroying  the  alliance  be- 
tween himself  and  the  church,  whose  roots  were 
shooting  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  hearts  of  men. 
He  was  surrounded  by  clerical  counsellors,  and  their 

[30] 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CJESAR 

pleadings  and  his  own  desire  to  save  the  face  in  the 
looking-glass  ran  together;  he  convoked  a  general 
council  of  the  bishops  of  Christendom  to  pass  upon 
the  Arian  doctrines  and  other  matters  suggested 
largely  by  the  ecclesiastics  of  the  church  in  the  East. 
For  it  was  in  the  East  that  contentions  arose  in  great- 
est measure ;  it  was  the  bishops  of  the  Eastern  church 
who  seemed  to  have  yielded  to  the  new  influence  in- 
troduced by  the  change  in  the  relationship  of  the  state 
toward  the  church;  it  was  there  that  the  courtier- 
prelates  clustered  thickest  and  the  reverence  for 
worldly  power  and  the  love  of  worldly  emolument 
were  most  strongly  mingled  with  the  ancient  spirit  of 
the  church. 

It  is  significant  of  the  rising  influence  of  the  East- 
ern as  distinguished  from  the  Western  church  in  the 
court  of  the  emperor  that  the  first  general  council  was 
held  in  Nice  in  Bithynia.  The  letter  in  which  the  ruler 
invited  the  bishops  to  assemble  was  full  of  expres- 
sions of  esteem  for  them  and  their  sacred  office.  In 
response  to  it  there  was  an  ecclesiastical  migration 
toward  Nice  from  all  parts  of  the  extensive  Roman 
dominion.  From  the  far  provinces  of  the  East  and 
West,  along  the  military  roads  and  across  the  blue 
Mediterranean  from  the  African  provinces,  came  the 
shepherds  of  the  flocks.  Men  who  lived  and  prayed 
and  preached  in  the  remote  parts  of  the  empire,  whose 
flocks  were  made  up  of  the  barbarians  but  recently 
conquered  by  the  Roman  legions,  men  whose  fare  was 
simple  and  whose  purses  were  empty,  found  them- 
selves provided  with  transportation,  guarded  by  the 
soldiers  of  the  empire,  honored  as  princes  by  the  state 

CaO 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

which  only  a  few  years  ago  sought  them  out  for  mar- 
tyrdom with  the  keen  edge  of  its  sword.  Simple  of 
life  and  thought,  they  came  hurrying  toward  Nice, 
eager  to  see  this  great  emperor  who  had  bowed  the 
knee  before  the  true  God.  May  of  325  found  them 
assembling  in  the  city  of  Nice.  The  system  of  corre- 
spondence that  had  kept  the  church  together  had 
made  even  the  most  remotely  placed  members  of  the 
episcopate  familiar  with  the  names  and  actions  of 
their  colleagues,  but  we  can  fancy  the  wonder  with 
which  the  bishops  from  the  wilderness  looked  upon 
the  splendidly  garbed  courtiers  who  shepherded  the 
flocks  near  the  heart  of  the  empire.  The  emperor  had 
not  yet  arrived,  the  strangers  were  received  and  enter- 
tained by  the  Oriental  bishops ;  there  were  preliminary 
assemblages  and  private  and  public  banquets;  there 
was  animated  discussion  of  the  great  questions  soon 
to  come  before  the  assembled  council.  The  name  of 
Constantine  was  on  every  tongue;  what  was  he  like? 
the  strangers  asked,  and  what  he  was  like  his  fa- 
miliars told  them.  Was  it  any  wonder  that  the  three 
hundred  and  eighteen  bishops  held  their  great  assem- 
blage back  in  order  that  they  might  elucidate  Chris- 
tian truth  in  the  very  presence  of  the  mighty  champion 
of  the  church?  It  was  not  that  he  had  given  them 
security  and  many  of  them  wealth:  he  had  given 
power  and  honor  to  the  church,  to  the  glorious  faith 
to  which  most  of  them  had  proven  their  devotion  by 
lives  of  privation  and  danger,  and  for  which  some  of 
them  had  joyously  endured  the  torture  and  seen  their 
red  blood  flow. 

When  at  last  he  came  to  Nice  the  council  was  sol- 

13*1 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CAESAR 

emnly  opened.  The  bishops  assembled,  and  Eusebius, 
himself  an  Eastern  bishop  and  a  church  historian,  tells 
us  of  the  breathless  silence  in  which  they  waited  the 
coming  of  the  emperor. 

Constantine  himself  neglected  nothing  which 
might  indicate  his  appreciation  of  the  solemnity  of  the 
occasion  and  the  feeling  of  honor  he  held  for  the 
church.  He  came,  as  that  same  ecclesiastical  historian 
described  it,  "like  a  messenger  of  God,  clothed  in 
raiment  which  glittered  as  it  were  with  rays  of  light; 
reflecting  the  flowing  radiance  of  a  purple  robe,  and 
adorned  with  the  brilliant  splendor  of  gold  and 
precious  stones."  His  speech  no  less  than  his  appear- 
ance was  likely  to  increase  the  favor  in  which  the 
Christian  priesthood  already  held  him.  It  was  full  of 
devotion  to  the  church,  a  division  in  which  he  re- 
garded as  more  dangerous  than  any  kind  of  war  or 
conflict.  To  prevent  such  division  he  had  called  them 
together;  ministers  of  God  as  they  were  and  faithful 
servants  of  Christ,  the  Lord  and  Saviour,  the  spirit  of 
peace  and  concord  should  prevail  among  them.  He 
was  their  fellow-servant  of  God ;  he  desired,  above  all 
things,  that  all  cause  of  disunion  among  God's  ser- 
vants should  be  removed. 

During  the  debates  that  followed  the  opening 
speech,  Constantine  carefully  abstained  from  inter- 
ference, except  to  counsel  moderation  in  speech  when 
some  of  the  disputants  became  too  fiery.  Frequently 
an  eager  debater  would  turn  with  appeal  to  the  splen- 
did and  mighty  figure  who  sat  among  them,  but  the 
emperor  let  the  current  of  opinion  flow  on  without  at- 
tempt to  direct  it.  The  conclusion  he  accepted  with- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

out  question.  It  was  the  codification  of  what  was 
Christian  truth  according  to  those  most  competent  to 
judge — the  Nicene  Creed.  Three  hundred  of  the 
bishops  gave  assent  to  that  creed ;  five  only  dissented. 
Of  these  five  three  were  of  the  Eastern  church;  two 
were  the  old  friends  of  Arius — Theonas  of  Marmarica 
and  Secundus  of  Ptolemais,  who  had  defended  him  in 
the  Alexandrian  synod. 

The  council  having  determined  the  theological 
question,  Constantine  used  the  civil  power  to  banish 
Arius  and  those  who  still  adhered  to  his  doctrine.  He 
wrote  to  the  Alexandrian  church  declaring  that  all 
should  abandon  the  error  of  Arius. 

The  three  Eastern  bishops  who  had  joined  Theonas 
and  Secundus  in  dissent  from  the  Nicene  Creed,  could 
not,  when  the  test  came,  bear  to  part  with  the  offices 
they  held.  They  were  too  much  in  the  habit  of  bend- 
ing before  the  secular  power,  and  they  reluctantly, 
and  not  very  honestly,  as  future  events  were  to  show, 
subscribed  to  the  conclusion  of  the  majority  of  their 
colleagues.  This  reduced  the  number  of  dissenting 
bishops  to  two. 

Constantine  celebrated  the  close  of  the  council  with 
a  great  banquet,  given  to  the  bishops  on  the  twentieth 
anniversary  of  his  elevation  to  the  throne.  He  ex- 
horted the  bishops  from  whom  he  was  about  to  part  to 
maintain  peace  in  the  church.  Many  believe  it  was  at 
this  banquet  that  he  described  himself  as  being  in  one 
sense  a  bishop:  "You  are  bishops  whose  jurisdiction 
is  within  the  church:  I  also  am  a  bishop,  ordained 
by  God  to  overlook  whatever  is  external  to  the 
church." 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CJESAR 

The  Eastern  bishops  had  been  defeated  in  the  coun- 
cil, but  they  by  no  means  abandoned  their  hope  of 
winning  the  mind  of  the  emperor  away  from  the  or- 
thodox church.  They  were  not  without  powerful 
allies  close  to  the  imperial  presence;  Eusebius  of  Nico- 
media  possessed  great  influence  over  Constantia,  the 
widow  of  Licinius  and  sister  of  Constantine.  But  a 
few  months  after  the  Council  of  Nice  he  and  Theognis 
were  charged  with  giving  communion  to  the  Arians, 
and  that  banishment  they  had  escaped  by  subscribing 
to  the  creed  was  inflicted  upon  them. 

Constantia  exerted  all  the  influence  she  possessed 
to  bring  about  their  recall  and  to  incline  the  mind  of 
the  emperor  toward  the  Arians.  On  her  death-bed 
she  requested  Constantine  to  take  into  his  service  a 
priest  who  quickly  won  favor  with  him  and  who  pre- 
vailed upon  him  to  reopen  the  case  of  Arius.  Euse- 
bius and  Theognis  were  recalled  about  this  time,  and 
by  imperial  edict  their  bishoprics  were  restored  to 
them.  Before  the  emperor,  Arius  made  a  profession 
of  faith  which  Constantine  accepted  as  in  accordance 
with  the  Nicene  Creed,  and  Eusebius  immediately 
wrote  to  Athanasius,  who  had  succeeded  to  the  see  of 
Alexandria  upon  the  death  of  Alexander,  urging  him 
to  restore  Arius  to  the  priesthood.  But  the  profession 
of  Arius  was  by  no  means  satisfactory  to  the  Alexan- 
drian bishop,  and  he  flatly  refused  to  admit  Arius  to 
communion :  refused  not  only  when  urged  to  do  so  by 
Eusebius,  but  also  when  commanded  to  do  so  by  Con- 
stantine. And  so  for  a  second  time  the  Christian 
votary  and  the  Roman  ruler  faced  each  other.  This 
time  the  situation  was  more  serious;  whereas  Alexan- 

CssU 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

der  had  rejected  his  counsel,  Athanasius  had  boldly 
disobeyed  his  command. 

Under  the  influence  of  Eusebius,  an  influence  which 
had  been  growing  ever  stronger  in  Constantine's 
court,  orthodox  bishops  had  been  forcibly  ousted  by 
the  emperor  from  sees  in  the  East,  and  Arians  had 
been  appointed  to  succeed  them.  These  new  bishops 
united  now  to  destroy  the  Alexandrian  prelate. 
Charges  were  made  against  him  which  reached  the 
emperor  finally.  It  is  notable  that  the  charge  upon 
which  he  acted  was  political  altogether:  Athanasius 
was  accused  of  threatening  to  stop  the  shipments  of 
corn  from  Alexandria.  This  meant  the  starvation  of 
the  capital,  which  drew  its  supplies  of  food  from  the 
Egyptian  granaries,  and  the  angry  emperor  banished 
Athanasius  as  a  fomenter  of  discord  in  the  church  and 
an  enemy  of  the  state. 

From  that  time  on  until  the  death  of  Constantine, 
an  odd  condition  existed  in  the  empire.  Professing 
always  his  adherence  to  the  Nicene  Creed,  Constan- 
tine yielded  more  and  more  to  the  influences  that  op- 
posed it.  He  still  maintained  a  friendship  with  the 
great  lights  of  the  orthodox  church,  but  his  policy 
toward  the  church  was  shaped  and  bent  by  the  subtle 
bishop  of  Nicomedia,  and  by  imperial  edict  priests 
who  believed  in  the  Arian  doctrine  were  raised  to  the 
episcopate.  The  churchmen  of  the  East  became  more 
and  more  fawners  upon  the  imperial  power;  they 
planned  to  have  Arius  himself  publicly  and  with  splen- 
did ceremony  reinstated  in  the  priestly  office  in  the 
great  church  of  Constantinople.  Only  the  death  of 
the  arch-schismatic  as  the  procession  of  his  triumph- 


WHAT  THINGS  ARE  OF  CJESAR 

ant  supporters  marched  to  the  church  prevented  them 
from  carrying  out  this  plan,  and,  by  its  effect  upon  the 
mind  of  the  emperor  at  that  time  and  in  that  place, 
checked  for  a  while  the  Arian  influence  in  the  im- 
perial court.  It  is  said  that  as  Constantine  approached 
his  end  his  dislike  of  Athanasius  began  to  yield  under 
the  arguments  of  St.  Anthony,  but  he  died  with  the 
chief  bulwark  of  the  orthodox  church  still  in  that 
exile  from  which  the  second  Constantine  at  last  re- 
called him. 

Briefly,  then,  this  is  the  story  of  the  relationship  of 
Constantine  to  the  Christian  church.  It  was  a  tre- 
mendous period ;  its  effect  upon  human  history  makes 
it  stand  out  monumentally,  but  it  is  very  far  back  on 
the  road,  and  none  too  bright  are  the  lights  that  glim- 
mer fitfully  upon  it,  illuminating  it  in  spots.  In  such 
lights  as  we  have,  however,  there  are  some  things 
clearly  discernible.  We  can  see  the  influences  of  the 
old  conceptions  still  at  work,  the  old  order  endeavor- 
ing to  maintain  itself  against  the  new.  The  national- 
ity of  religion  was  a  habit  of  human  thought,  no  less 
of  the  pagan  Greek  than  of  the  monotheistic  Hebrew. 

"The  independence  enjoyed  by  these  communities," 
says  Ranke,  "was  not  merely  political :  an  independent 
religion  also  had  been  established  by  each;  the  ideas 
of  God  and  of  divine  things  had  received  a  character 
strictly  local ;  deities  of  the  most  diversified  attributes 
divided  the  worship  of  the  world,  and  the  law  by 
which  their  votaries  were  governed  became  insepar- 
ably united  with  that  of  the  state."  It  was,  to  use  the 
great  German  historian's  own  term,  "an  intimate 
union  of  church  and  state." 

C373 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

This  conception  carried  itself  into  the  Roman 
scheme  of  government  as  the  conquering  city,  binding 
the  conquered  nations  into  her  empire,  gathered  their 
gods  together  and  gave  them  place  in  her  Pantheon; 
it  developed  in  its  logical  process  until  above  the  gods 
of  all  the  nations  it  set  the  deified  emperor,  exalting 
above  all  the  divinities  the  head  of  the  Roman  state. 

It  was  this  conception  that  Christianity  had  to 
fight.  The  battle  was  easier  for  the  church  when  the 
state  was  hostile  than  when  the  state  was  friendly. 
Dimly,  but  unmistakably,  the  lines  of  the  conflict  dis- 
close themselves  in  the  Constantine  period.  We  see 
the  early  divergence  of  the  bishops  of  the  East,  who 
fawned  at  the  feet  of  the  emperor,  from  those  of  the 
West,  who,  with  headquarters  in  abandoned  Rome, 
had  to  work  out  the  future  of  the  church  far  from  the 
seat  of  worldly  power.  The  orthodox  church  was  al- 
ready insisting  upon  its  spiritual  freedom;  the  schis- 
matics appealed  from  the  ecclesiastical  to  the  civil 
power.  Well  may  we  close  this  chapter  with  the 
words  of  Ranker  "The  emperor  united  church  and 
state:  Christianity  separated,  before  all  things,  that 
which  is  Caesar's  from  that  which  belongs  to  God." 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

R\CE  prejudice  is  perhaps  the  strongest  preju- 
dice that  human  beings  know.    Its  expres- 
sion in  mob  action  is  merciless,  murderous. 
It  feeds  avidly  and  grows  enormously  on  calumny.    It 
is  permeated  by  an  unshakable  self-satisfaction  that 
makes  it  opaque :  the  light  cannot  penetrate  it. 

Race  prejudice  is  a  parasite  of  patriotism;  an  evil 
growth  on  a  good  tree.  The  patriotism  of  the  multi- 
tude becomes  race  prejudice  in  the  mob.  Ignorance 
fosters  it ;  under  that  black  shadow,  love  of  one's  own 
people  is  transmuted  into  passionate  hatred  of  other 
peoples. 

In  the  early  middle  ages  the  seat  of  ecclesiastical 
authority  became  a  state.  It  is  useless  to  deplore  this 
fact.  Superficial  reviewers,  who  are  friends  of  re- 
ligion, regret  it  as  the  cause  of  corruption  in  the  church 
organization  and  of  division  among  the  followers 
of  Christ;  superficial  reviewers,  who  are  enemies  of 
religion,  exploit  it  as  irrefutable  proof  that  the  greed 
of  men,  and  not  any  divine  inspiration,  was  the  soul  of 
the  ecclesiastical  body.  But  the  unbiased  student  will 
marvel  at  the  strange  combinations  of  circumstances 
from  which  there  could  be  no  other  issue  than  the 
clothing  of  the  Christian  church  with  political  power, 
and  the  student  who  holds  the  vast  and  sublime  con- 
ception of  the  mission  and  destiny  of  the  church  can- 

[393 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

not  escape  conviction  that  the  hand  of  God  was 
moving  among  the  nations.  For,  as  one  assembles  the 
phantoms  on  the  misty  stage  of  the  dark  ages,  and 
notes  the  political  life  that  was  generated  in  the 
dying  body  of  the  Roman  Empire,  as  vermicular  life 
in  the  human  cadaver,  the  conclusion  is  irresistible 
that  a  measure  of  political  power  was  absolutely  nec- 
essary to  the  continued  existence  of  the  church.  Un- 
der the  idea  of  political  supremacy,  then  and  for 
centuries  theretofore  prevalent  in  the  minds  of  men,  it 
was  impossible  for  the  church  to  do  its  work  while  its 
central  authority  was  in  real  political  subjection  to  a 
secular  sovereign. 

While  the  Roman  imperial  organization,  animated 
to  the  end,  although  in  lessening  degree,  by  the  an- 
cient democratic  principle  that  government  exists 
legitimately  only  for  the  welfare  of  all  the  people,  held 
sway  over  the  world,  there  was  no  serious  friction, 
although  the  growing  principle  of  autocracy  had  im- 
pelled rulers  from  the  time  of  Constantine  the  Great 
to  attempt  the  control  and  direction  of  ecclesiastical 
affairs.  Had  not  the  autocratic  principle  fastened  it- 
self upon  the  Roman  political  system,  it  is  doubtful  if 
there  would  ever  have  been  any  radical  disagreement 
between  the  civil  power  and  the  church;  for  the 
church,  by  reason  of  its  nature,  could  never  have  been 
in  conflict  with  the  democratic  principle. 

But  when  the  corrupted  heart  of  the  Roman  system 
could  no  longer  send  efficient  impulses  to  its  extremi- 
ties, and  the  imperial  power  ceased  to  be  a  substance 
and  became  a  shadow  less  and  less  distinct  on  the 
western  world,  it  was  necessary  that  some  physical 

C40] 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

bulwark  should  be  erected  for  the  protection  of  the 
physical  organization  of  the  church,  in  order  that  the 
human  depository  of  divine  truth  might  continue  to 
hold  aloft  for  the  illumination  of  the  world  the  inex- 
tinguishable spiritual  light. 

There  were  sequential  offshoots  of  this  fact  that 
were  deplorable,  beyond  any  doubt,  but  they  were  the 
evils  necessarily  concomitant  with  the  imperfection 
of  human  nature;  just  as  a  tremendous  effusion  of 
blood  was  a  necessary  concomitant  of  the  beneficent 
Revolution  to  which  the  world  owes  this  Republic. 
And  one  of  the  collateral  effects  of  the  political  status 
of  the  church  was  a  factor  making  for  race  prejudice 
in  the  religious  development  of  the  world.  The  con- 
flict between  the  Teuton  and  the  Latin,  the  distrust 
of  the  stranger  and  the  dislike  of  strange  customs  so 
natural  in  man,  grew  up  between  the  children  of  the 
Roman  civilization  and  the  children  of  the  forest  bar- 
barism which  was  conquered  by  and  in  turn  con- 
quered that  civilization;  and  when  there  came  a 
division  on  doctrinal  points,  racial  prejudices  so  en- 
venomed the  controversy  that  it  became  the  policy 
and  the  practice  of  Protestant  princes  to  instil  a 
horror  of  the  ancient  church  and  its  leaders  in  the 
minds  of  their  subjects. 

To  consider,  calmly  and  without  the  prejudice  that 
has  so  long  clouded  the  Protestant  mind  on  the  sub- 
ject, the  beginnings  of  the  temporal  sovereignty  of 
the  popes  shall  be,  therefore,  the  business  of  this  brief 
chapter.  It  is  the  common  understanding  that  this 
thing  came  about  as  a  result  of  deliberation,  as  a  con- 
sequence of  the  ambition  and  political  ability  of  de- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

signing  priests.  A  little  reflection  will  show  how  far 
from  the  fact  is  this  view  of  the  subject;  for  the  seed 
of  the  thing  was  in  the  ancient  organization  of  the 
Church  of  Rome,  a  form  of  organization  that  existed 
for  centuries  before  the  church  was  recognized  by  the 
Roman  state  as  anything  but  a  criminal  association 
of  the  obstinate  votaries  of  an  incomprehensible 
superstition. 

The  Church  of  Rome  was  democratic  in  the  broad- 
est sense.  The  bishop  was  elected  by  the  communi- 
cants. When,  finally,  the  whole  population  of  the 
city  of  Rome  became  communicants,  they  became 
electors  also,  and  they  continued  to  act  as  such  until 
mob  violence  made  so  great  a  scandal  in  the  episcopal 
elections  that  it  was  necessary  to  place  the  power  of 
selecting  bishops  in  the  hands  of  holy  men;  thereafter 
the  clergy  alone  were  to  exercise  the  right  of  election. 

But  for  many  centuries  the  old  system  prevailed; 
for  many  centuries  the  Roman  bishop  was  not  only 
the  apostolic  successor  of  St.  Peter,  but  the  chosen 
man  of  the  Roman  people,  their  wisest  and  their  saint- 
liest  man.  Subject  civilly  to  the  emperor,  he  was  yet 
a  sovereign  spiritual  before  whom  the  emperor  bowed 
the  knee.  As  the  primate  of  Christendom,  he  enjoyed 
the  respect  and  affection  of  even  those  barbarian  peo- 
ples whose  rising  military  strength  was  compressing 
the  empire. 

Keeping  in  mind  this  unique  position  occupied  by 
the  Roman  bishop,  let  us  consider  the  decline  of  the 
civil  power  to  which  he  owed  allegiance.  At  about 
the  time  that  the  proscription  of  the  Christian  church 
ended — and  the  coincidence  is  worthy  of  notice — the 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

Roman  emperors  abandoned  the  ancient  capital.  Con- 
stantine  himself  built  his  own  capital,  which  was  to 
serve  for  many  hundred  years  as  the  seat  of  the 
Caesars.  The  city  by  the  Tiber  became  of  secondary 
political  importance;  gradually  it  sank  into  the  posi- 
tion of  a  duchy  or  military  division  of  the  empire. 
With  his  seat  at  Ravenna,  an  exarch,  or  vice-emperor, 
governed  it  in  common  with  the  other  military  divi- 
sions of  Byzantine  Italy. 

The  west  and  north  of  Europe  had  in  the  meantime 
been  lost  to  the  empire.  In  northern  Italy  the  Lom- 
bard kings  not  only  laughed  at  the  Roman  power,  but 
more  and  more  stretched  their  own  boundaries  over 
the  Roman  territory.  Britain  was  a  congeries  of 
microscopic  kingdoms;  France  and  Germany  were 
split  up  into  principalities  so  numerous  as  to  be  con- 
fusing. The  strong  sword  of  an  ambitious  soldier 
carved  out  a  state  in  a  day,  and  the  weak  sword  of  his 
son  lost  it  in  an  hour.  There  was  no  international  law 
but  the  law  of  the  strong  hand.  A  man's  kingdom 
was  what  he  could  hold  in  his  grip ;  when  his  fingers 
weakened  the  kingdom  vanished.  Territorial  lines 
flickered  like  the  will-o'-the-wisp;  to-day  a  town 
yielded  allegiance  to  one  king,  to-morrow  to  another. 

There  was  no  such  thing  in  Europe  then  as  an  army 
in  the  modern  sense,  or  in  the  ancient  Roman  and 
Greek  sense.  A  king  was  a  leader  to  whom  a  number 
of  feudal  lords  adhered,  and  his  forces  were  the  ser- 
vants of  his  own  household  and  those  of  his  subject 
lords.  The  feudal  system  had  supplanted  the  old 
Roman  military  system. 

It  is  interesting  to  look  back  at  the  development  of 

C43H 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  feudal  system.  It  was  the  natural  consequence  of 
the  system  of  delegated  authority  by  which  the  Roman 
emperors,  when  they  had  lost  the  martial  vigor  of  their 
predecessors,  hoped  to  govern  a  vast  domain  without 
personal  trouble.  Certain  districts  were  handed  over 
to  military  leaders,  or  dukes,  who  were  supposed  to 
govern  them  in  lieu  of  the  emperor.  These  dukes 
parcelled  out  the  districts  among  their  officers,  who 
were  supposed  to  pay  them  a  certain  tribute  and 
furnish  them  a  certain  number  of  men  for  military 
purposes.  Each  lord  was  a  captain,  each  duke  was  a 
colonel,  the  emperor  was  of  course  the  general;  in- 
deed, that  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  emperor,  just  as 
leader  is  the  meaning  of  the  word  duke. 

The  dukes  were  only  temporary  officers  at  first,  dur- 
ing the  period  when  the  emperors  personally  knew  the 
confines  of  the  empire;  but  as  it  became  too  laborious 
for  the  luxury-loving  successors  6f  Constantine  to 
travel  any  distance  from  their  palaces  and  slaves,  and 
not  only  the  military  roads  fell  into  decay,  but  the 
Roman  laws  lost  their  binding  force,  making  such 
travel  difficult  and  dangerous,  the  Byzantine  rulers 
troubled  themselves  little  about  the  remote  provinces, 
and  each  duke  was  left  to  his  own  devices  and  the 
choice  of  his  own  successor.  His  captains,  very 
loosely  bound  to  the  remote  imperial  allegiance,  were 
intimately  connected  with  the  more  immediate  incar- 
nation of  power  and  authority  in  their  local  leader. 

Meanwhile  the  old  democratic  theory  of  govern- 
ment had  been  utterly  lost.  The  imperial  laws 
troubled  but  little  these  nominal  officers  of  the  em- 
pire, who  now  owed  their  real  power  to  the  soil  rather 

C443 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

than  to  the  distant  sovereign,  and  who  knew  the  weak- 
ness of  the  living  authority  behind  the  written  statute. 
Each  leader  was  a  law  unto  himself;  sometimes  he 
freely  bound  himself  to  allegiance  to  a  leader  stronger 
than  himself,  but  it  was  an  allegiance  from  which  he 
relieved  himself  whenever  his  own  strength  and  in- 
clination moved  him.  Sometimes,  when  conditions 
made  it  convenient,  a  number  of  dukes  would  band 
together  and  elect  a  leader  whom  they  would  call  a 
king ;  or,  as  was  more  often  the  case,  a  king  would  be 
elected  by  important  families  and  lead  them  in  war 
against  neighboring  dukes. 

From  out  the  northern  forests  came  the  Lombards, 
following  the  Goths,  who  had  conquered  and  reigned 
at  Ravenna  and  had  then  been  displaced.  They  were  at 
first  less  numerous,  and  therefore  less  powerful,  than 
the  Goths.  Under  Alboin,  their  king,  they  seized  the 
northern  part  of  Italy,  and  threatened  but  did  not 
annex  the  lower  provinces,  which  still  owed  allegiance 
to  the  Eastern  emperor.  Independent  duchies,  Bene- 
ventum  and  Spoleto,  also  arose  and  joined  with  the 
Lombard  kings  in  threatening  the  dwindling  Byzan- 
tine power.  Luitprand,  a  later  king  of  the  Lombards, 
an  enterprising  and  able  chief,  made  extensive  con- 
quests, and  his  activity  presaged  a  not  distant  sub- 
jugation of  Ravenna  and  Rome.  Classis,  the  seaport 
of  Ravenna,  was  one  of  the  cities  that  surrendered  to 
his  arms. 

While  the  ancient  capital  was  thus  threatened  with 
subjugation  by  barbarian  forces,  the  interference  of 
the  Byzantine  emperor  in  religious  matters  brought 
on  a  quarrel  between  the  civil  power  and  the  church. 

C45] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Leo  the  Iconoclast,  backed  by  courtier-priests  of  the 
Eastern  church,  questioned  the  spiritual  superiority 
of  the  Roman  bishop,  and  the  pope  organized  a  resist- 
ance to  the  imperial  mandates  with  regard  to  the  use 
of  images.  He  was  supported  by  the  neighboring 
duchies,  whose  people  sent  the  representatives  of  the 
emperor  to  Constantinople  and  selected  as  their  own 
leaders  men  who  sided  with  the  Roman  Church.  The 
exarch  Paul,  under  orders  from  Constantinople,  sent 
troops  to  Rome  to  enforce  his  master's  decrees,  but 
the  Lombard  troops  hurried  to  the  defense  of  the 
pope,  and  the  troops  of  the  exarch  retired.  In  Ra- 
venna Paul  found  the  imperial  troops  in  a  mutinous 
spirit,  threatening  to  proclaim  the  deposition  of  Leo 
and  to  elect  an  emperor  in  his  place.  The  people  of 
Ravenna  were  so  angered  at  the  attack  upon  the  pon- 
tiff that  riots  occurred,  in  one  of  which  Paul  was  slain. 
He  was  succeeded  by  Eutychius,  who  was  the  last  of 
the  exarchs. 

Eutychius  at  first  thought  to  follow  in  the  path  of 
Paul,  but  he  soon  found  that  he  could  not  rely  on  his 
troops  in  a  warfare  on  the  pope;  he  therefore  made  an 
alliance  with  the  Lombards,  the  object  of  which  was 
the  complete  subjection  of  the  dukes  of  Beneventum 
and  Spoleto  to  Luitprand  and  the  subjection  of  the 
Roman  pontiff  to  the  Byzantine  court.  To  Eutychius 
it  was  soon  apparent  that  the  Lombard  was  much  in- 
terested in  the  first  part  of  the  programme,  but  not 
particular  with  regard  to  the  second.  After  Luit- 
prand had  received  the  submission  of  the  two  inde- 
pendent dukes,  he  and  they  and  the  exarch  went  to 
Rome  to  visit  the  pope. 

C46] 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

There  is  a  delightfully  humorous  flavor  of  modern 
politics  in  the  history  of  that  visit  and  its  effects. 
Luitprand  began  diplomatically  by  overwhelming 
the  pope  with  gifts.  If  the  civil  governor  of  the 
Romans,  the  duke,  took  part  in  the  proceedings,  as 
undoubtedly  he  did,  his  part  is  not  considered  of  suffi- 
cient importance  for  historical  record.  It  was  the 
Roman  bishop  who  entertained  the  visitors,  and  it 
was  to  the  Roman  bishop  that  Luitprand,  who  knew 
the  real  power  from  its  counterfeit,  paid  homage.  It 
did  not  take  the  kick  of  a  mule,  obviously,  to  indicate 
to  Eutychius  what  the  exact  conditions  were,  and  how 
little  likely  it  was  that  his  Catholic,  if  barbarian,  ally 
was  going  to  use  any  force  in  bending  the  pope  to 
submission;  for  thereafter  we  find  the  exarch  in  quite 
amicable  relationship  with  the  pope,  acting  quite  as 
the  other  dukes  acted,  and  paying  little  attention  to 
the  distant  emperor.  All  the  comfort  Leo  might  take 
from  the  fruits  of  Eutychius's  expedition  was  an  al- 
liance of  all  three  parties  in  Italy  for  the  purpose  of 
capturing  a  pretender  to  the  Byzantine  throne  whose 
name  was  Tiberius. 

But  Luitprand  soon  found  it  convenient  to  war 
again  upon  the  emperor,  and  Eutychius,  as  the  repre- 
sentative of  the  emperor,  suffered  in  consequence. 
The  Lombard  king  made  himself  master  even  of  Ra- 
venna, and  the  exarch  fled  to  Venice  for  refuge,  and 
was  reinstated  in  his  duchy  only  through  the  inter- 
vention of  Pope  Gregory  III. 

All  through  his  reign,  which  was  long  and  prosper- 
ous, Luitprand  was  considerate  of  the  rights  and  com- 
fort of  the  pope  and  his  people.  He  had  for  them  a 

[473 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

respect  shared  by  the  other  Germanic  and  Gallic  na- 
tions, by  whom  they  were  known  as  "the  peculiar 
people  of  St.  Peter  and  the  church."  Many  times,  at 
the  solicitation  of  the  pope,  the  Lombard  monarch  re- 
stored cities  he  had  taken  from  the  Roman  and  neigh- 
boring duchies,  and  his  only  open  attack  on  Rome 
itself  was  due  to  the  interference  of  the  Romans  in  the 
business  of  his  kingdom.  The  powerful  duchies  of 
Spoleto  and  Beneventum  owed  some  allegiance  to  the 
Lombard  monarch,  but  they  were  inclined  to  strike 
out  for  themselves.  They  had  maintained  what  was 
practically  an  independence  under  the  predecessors  of 
Luitprand,  but  that  king  was  not  a  man  to  brook  in- 
subordination, and  he  made  his  displeasure  very  plain 
to  the  rebellious  dukes.  Trasimund,  duke  of  Spoleto,  a 
proud  and  choleric  soldier,  braved  the  wrath  of  the 
none  too  patient  Luitprand ;  and  the  Romans,  perhaps 
with  the  notion  that  two  powerful  free  duchies  might 
act  as  a  buffer  between  themselves  and  the  enterpris- 
ing barbarian  warrior  to  the  north,  espoused  his  cause. 
Luitprand  swept  down  on  Spoleto,  and  Trasimund 
fled  before  the  royal  anger.  He  took  refuge  in  Rome, 
and  the  Romans  refused  to  surrender  him  to  the  mon- 
arch who  followed  swift  upon  his  heels.  Rebuffed  by 
the  people  who  had  so  often  been  the  beneficiaries  of 
his  consideration,  the  Lombard  king  still  refrained 
from  attacking  the  Holy  City,  but  he  did  seize  four 
places  in  the  northern  part  of  the  Roman  division,  and 
his  soldiers  pillaged  the  land  up  to  the  very  walls  of 
the  city  itself.  Gregory  III  implored  Luitprand  to  re- 
turn the  four  towns,  but  the  indignant  Lombard 
refused  to  do  so,  and  the  pope  appealed  for  aid  to 
Charles  Martel,  the  great  king  of  the  Franks. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

This  appeal,  made  in  739,  was  the  first  evidence  of 
a  change  in  the  attitude  of  the  Romans  toward  the  old 
imperial  system.  Left  to  themselves  in  a  hostile  en- 
vironment by  a  sovereign  too  weak  to  help  them,  they 
had  helped  themselves  for  a  long  period  of  years.  In 
doing  so  they  had  made  their  agent  not  the  impotent 
vicar  of  the  civil  government,  but  the  bishop  whose 
election  made  him  their  peculiar  representative  and 
whose  religious  position  gave  him  advantages  as  a 
negotiator  that  none  other  could  possess.  But  they 
still  clung  to  the  traditional  form  of  government,  al- 
though the  real  functions  of  government  were  other- 
wise exercised;  just  as  to-day  the  City  of  London 
elects  solemnly  its  lord  mayor,  a  functionary  without 
any  function  in  the  government  of  the  municipality. 
They  were  Romans;  the  Byzantine  emperor  was  the 
head  of  the  Roman  Empire;  the  rest  of  the  world  was 
barbarian.  What  there  was  of  civilization  they  stood 
for ;  they  sought  to  retain  that  distinction,  and  not  to 
become  the  political  province  of  a  barbarian  chief. 

But  now  it  was  becoming  apparent  to  the  pope  that 
the  Byzantine  hand  was  too  weak  to  hold;  that  the 
Holy  City  was  certain  to  be  overrun  by  the  barba- 
rians unless  protected  by  one  of  the  barbarian  powers. 
Reluctantly  the  Romans  turned  their  faces  from  the 
East  and  looked  for  succor  to  the  West.  The  religious 
sentiment  was  by  no  means  an  element  in  this  reluc- 
tance. Indeed,  between  Rome  and  Byzantium  there 
was  division  on  religious  matters,  while  the  entire 
West  was  doctrinally  at  one  with  the  pope. 

The  nuncios  of  Gregory  III  were  received  cour- 
teously at  the  court  of  the  Prankish  king,  and  Charles 
in  return  sent  an  embassy  to  the  pope.  But  the  time 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

was  not  opportune  for  any  hostile  movement  of  the 
Franks  against  the  Lombards.  Luitprand  and 
Charles  were  warm  friends ;  more  than  that,  they  were 
military  allies,  the  troops  of  the  Lombard  having 
rushed  to  join  the  Frankish  warriors  against  the  Sara- 
cens whose  swords  were  gleaming  in  the  fair  fields  of 
Provence.  Besides  that,  Charles  was  quite  convinced 
that  while  the  Roman  people  might  feel  the  wrath  of 
Luitprand  for  their  unwarranted  interference  in  af- 
fairs that  should  not  have  concerned  them,  the  head 
of  the  church  and  his  clergy  need  fear  no  violence  at 
the  hands  of  the  pious  Lombard. 

The  Romans  were  left,  therefore,  to  their  own 
devices,  and  for  the  hour  these  devices  did  not  fail 
them.  With  a  flash  of  the  ancient  spirit  and  the  an- 
cient capacity,  they  armed  and  marched  against  the 
invaders,  took  Spoleto,  and  reinstated  Trasimund  on 
the  ducal  throne. 

Luitprand,  involved  in  numerous  martial  enter- 
prises, took  his  time  in  preparation  for  the  campaign 
against  Beneventum,  Spoleto,  and  Rome,  but  the 
whole  peninsula  was  full  of  reports  as  to  his  purposes. 
While  his  sword  was  suspended  above  the  devoted 
land,  Pope  Gregory  died,  following  along  the  path  to 
eternity  Leo  the  Iconoclast  and  Charles  Martel.  Pope 
Zachary  devoted  the  first  days  of  his  pontificate  to 
safeguarding  the  future  of  the  imperial  city.  He 
pointed  out  to  his  countrymen  that  the  arms  of  the 
two  duchies  and  the  Byzantine  provinces  could  hardly 
prevail  over  those  of  the  mighty  Lombard  prince,  to 
whom,  after  all,  the  Romans  owed  a  debt  of  gratitude 
deeper  than  any  they  owed  to  his  rebellious  dukes. 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

The  Romans  accepted  his  counsel,  and  he  went  north 
to  make  peace  with  the  king.  His  train  was  entirely 
ecclesiastical ;  it  was  made  up  of  the  robed  priests  of 
the  church,  and  not  of  the  armed  soldiers  of  the  em- 
pire. Luitprand,  always  loath  to  make  war  on  the 
City  of  St.  Peter,  gladly  accepted  the  Roman  alliance 
and  promised  not  to  molest  the  Roman  duchy.  The 
troops  of  the  exercitus  Romanus  joined  him  before 
Spoleto,  and  Trasimund  surrendered  unconditionally. 

The  Lombard  king  more  than  kept  his  promise  to 
the  pope.  Not  only  did  he  restore  to  the  Romans  the 
four  towns  he  had  taken  from  them,  but  in  the  follow- 
ing year,  when  the  Lombards  invaded  Ravenna  and 
Zachary  went  to  plead  with  the  king  on  behalf  of  his 
neighbors,  Luitprand  good-naturedly  gave  up  the 
conquered  territory  and  ceased  to  molest  the  Raven- 
nese. 

In  these  years  the  pope  appears  as  the  defender  of 
the  imperial  territory.  Luitprand's  successor,  Rat- 
chis,  was  as  devoted  to  the  See  of  St.  Peter  as  the 
great  king  himself  had  been;  and  had  he  continued  on 
the  throne  for  long,  there  might  have  been  a  different 
history  of  Europe.  Leaving  Rome  and  Ravenna  un- 
molested, he  advanced  against  the  imperial  power  at 
Pentapolis  and  Perugia,  and  was  actually  engaged  in 
the  siege  of  the  latter  place  when  Pope  Zachary  and 
his  ecclesiastical  train  marched  into  the  Lombard 
camp.  Before  the  king  the  eloquent  pope  pleaded  for 
peace;  and  so  deep  was  the  impression  made  by  the 
pontiff  on  the  mind  of  the  Lombard  chieftain  that  he 
not  only  withdrew  his  troops  from  the  walls  of 
Perugia,  but  took  the  crown  from  his  brow  and  re- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

tired  to  a  monastery  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  life 
in  penitential  exercises. 

And  now  there  came  to  rule  over  the  plains  of  Lom- 
bardy  a  warrior  given  much  less  to  piety  and  more  to 
predation  than  either  Ratchis  or  Luitprand,  a  crafty, 
ambitious  leader  who  was  convinced  that  the  time 
had  come  to  end  forever  the  Byzantine  domination 
over  the  Italian  peninsula.  Astolphus  succeeded 
Ratchis  in  749,  and  immediately  took  possession  of 
Pentapolis  and  Ravenna.  Under  his  ruthless  heel  the 
exarchate  came  to  its  end,  and  from  the  exarchal  palace 
the  Lombard  king  waved  his  sceptre  over  all  of  Italy 
between  the  Po  and  the  Adriatic.  In  752  Zachary 
died,  and  his  successor,  Stephen,  found  himself  under 
the  threat  of  a  Lombard  invasion.  He  at  once  sent 
ambassadors  to  his  new  and  not  desirable  neighbor, 
and  by  them  and  him  a  treaty  was  negotiated  under 
which  Astolphus  pledged  himself  to  a  peace  of  forty 
years'  duration.  His  pledge  held  good  for  less  than 
one-fortieth  of  the  stipulated  term,  for  in  the  autumn 
of  the  same  year  his  troops  were  on  the  march,  and 
halted  only  on  the  promise  of  a  tribute  of  gold.  The 
invader  announced,  further,  that  it  was  his  purpose  to 
cut  Rome  off  from  the  empire  and  make  the  Holy  City 
one  of  his  dependencies. 

Gloomy  tidings,  indeed,  were  these  for  the  Roman 
people;  to  give  up  the  glorious  past;  to  lose  that  inde- 
pendence they  had  enjoyed  under  the  weakening  im- 
perial system ;  to  become  vassals  to  strangers  whose 
dress  was  wild,  whose  beards  and  hair  were  uncouthly 
shorn ;  to  pass  from  political  unity  with  civilization  to 
political  subordination  to  a  barbaric  power :  all  this  it 

C52] 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

meant  to  a  people  proud  of  their  peculiar  position  as 
citizens  of  a  holy  republic  and  heirs  of  the  conquerors 
of  the  world.  There  was  no  division  among  them  on 
this  subject;  the  farmer  and  the  tradesman  shared 
with  the  duke  and  the  pope  the  horror  of  such  a  situ- 
ation. 

For  years  the  Romans  had  been  pleading  with  the 
emperors  to  wake  up  to  the  dangers  in  the  West,  but 
the  somnolent  powers  at  Constantinople  could  not  be 
awakened  to  the  gravity  of  those  dangers.  At  this 
juncture  they  did  indeed  take  some  slight  notice  of 
Pope  Stephen's  entreaties,  and  sent  to  Rome  not 
armed  legions,  but  John  the  Silentiary  with  letters  to 
Astolphus  and  to  the  pope.  The  first  was  entreated 
to  restore  the  territories  of  the  empire  he  had  annexed 
to  his  kingdom ;  the  second  to  do  what  he  could  for  the 
empire  diplomatically.  Stephen  sent  his  brother  Paul 
to  Astolphus  with  the  Byzantine  ambassador,  but  the 
Lombard  king  was  not  much  impressed  by  either  the 
emperor's  or  the  pontiff's  representative.  He  did 
consent  to  send  a  messenger  to  Constantinople,  but  in 
the  absence  of  that  messenger  he  employed  his  time 
with  incursions  into  the  Roman  duchy  and  the  seizure 
of  a  castle  or  two. 

Meanwhile  the  Romans  were  in  a  state  of  panic. 
With  reason  they  expected  little  aid  from  the  East, 
and  in  their  distress  they  thought  more  often  of  a  pro- 
tectorate by  the  Frankish  monarch  under  which  they 
might  continue  to  enjoy  their  independence.  With 
this  in  view,  the  pope  began  a  secret  correspondence 
with  Pepin,  using  as  his  messenger  a  peasant.  He 
asked  the  Frank  for  a  bodyguard  to  see  him  safely 

[533 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

through  Lombardy,  as  he  desired  to  visit  France. 
Pepin  sent  a  Prankish  bishop  and  the  duke  Auchtaire 
to  escort  him  from  Italy,  and  these,  on  their  arrival  in 
Rome,  found  John  the  Silentiary,  who  had  returned 
from  the  Eastern  court.  The  Byzantine  had  brought 
to  Stephen  a  command  of  the  emperor  that  he  hold  a 
personal  interview  with  Astolphus  and  induce  him  to 
restore  Ravenna  to  the  empire. 

Preceded  by  Auchtaire  and  escorted  by  his  clerics 
and  a  splendid  military  company,  Stephen  set  out  for 
Pavia,  the  Lombard  capital,  to  which  Astolphus  had 
retired  from  Ravenna.  This  was  in  October,  753.  On 
the  road  the  pontiff  was  met  by  a  messenger  from 
Astolphus  with  an  entreaty  that  the  pope  refrain  from 
any  reference  to  the  exarchy.  It  was  an  entreaty  to 
which  the  pope  paid  scant  respect,  his  diplomatic 
mission  being  to  obtain  the  restoration  of  Ravenna. 
All  his  eloquence  was  wasted,  however,  although  he 
was  strongly  backed  by  the  imperial  ambassador  and 
by  the  Prankish  nobles  who  stood  at  his  side.  The 
Lombard  king  would  not  concede  an  inch  that  he 
held  by  right  of  conquest,  nor  would  he  give  any 
satisfactory  guarantee  with  regard  to  his  future  pro- 
ceedings. 

The  pope  had  made  his  last  effort  for  the  integrity 
of  the  Byzantine  empire.  It  had  demonstrated  its 
weakness,  and  it  was  beyond  his  power  to  uphold  its 
sovereignty  longer  against  the  rapacity  of  the  Lom- 
bard. His  business  now  was  the  protection  of  the 
"peculiar  people"  and  their  territory,  and  he  went 
about  the  business  without  loss  of  time.  Sending 
back  to  Rome  the  military  escort,  he  proceeded,  with 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

his  clerical  entourage  and  his  Prankish  attendants,  to 
the  seat  of  the  Prankish  monarch.  Pepin  met  him  on 
the  road  and  treated  him  with  great  respect  and  affec- 
tion. To  him  Stephen  made  his  plea,  setting  before 
him  the  state  of  Italy  and  the  danger  to  the  Roman 
republic,  and  begging  him  to  protect  the  patrimony 
of  Peter. 

It  was  a  plea  that  did  not  fall  on  deaf  ears.  The 
Prankish  king  was  horrified  at  the  idea  of  an  attack 
by  the  Lombards  on  the  headquarters  of  the  Christian 
faith;  he  besought  Astolphus  through  numerous  am- 
bassadors to  refrain  from  such  hostile  activity  and  to 
refrain  from  the  imposition  of  unaccustomed  taxes. 
But  Astolphus  was  stubborn;  the  entreaties  of  his 
Prankish  neighbor  did  not  move  him,  and  Pepin 
swiftly  took  to  the  sword  to  effect  what  the  tongue 
had  been  unable  to  bring  about.  At  the  head  of  his 
Prankish  chivalry,  he  crossed  into  Italy,  met  Astol- 
phus on  the  road,  routed  him,  and  pursued  him  to 
Pavia.  Vanquished  by  the  Western  warriors,  the 
Lombard  king  was  compelled  to  yield  back  Ravenna 
and  the  other  duchies,  and  Pepin  sent  the  pope  back 
to  Rome,  where  the  people  received  their  pontiff  with 
joyful  acclamations. 

Astolphus  hardly  waited  until  Pepin  was  back  over 
the  Alps  before  he  laughed  at  his  own  promises  and 
prepared  to  revenge  himself  on  Rome.  The  pillage  of 
the  countryside  by  his  outriders  gave  warning  of  the 
attack  in  force,  and  Rome  had  some  time  to  prepare  a 
defense  against  the  three  formidable  columns  of 
bearded  men-at-arms  whose  weapons  flashed  in  the 
sunshine  outside  her  gates  on  New  Year's  morning  of 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

756.  All  around  the  city  the  vengeful  Lombard 
wasted  the  fields  and  villages,  and  again  and  again  his 
charges  threatened  the  very  walls;  but  the  Romans 
hurled  back  his  storming  parties,  priests  and  abbots, 
with  armor  worn  over  their  monastic  robes,  fighting 
with  the  lay  soldiery  on  the  ramparts.  Meanwhile  the 
pope  smuggled  his  messengers  by  sea  through  the 
Lombard  lines,  and  his  appeals  reaching  Pepin  at  last, 
the  king  of  the  Franks  and  his  terrible  squadrons  once 
more  advanced  into  Italy  in  their  war  harness.  Astol- 
phus  raised  the  siege  of  Rome  to  front  his  far  more 
formidable  foe.  Step  by  step  he  was  driven  back  un- 
til, cornered  at  last  in  Pavia,  he  was  beaten  again  into 
submission. 

Meanwhile  some  inkling  of  what  was  occurring  in 
the  West  had  penetrated  the  minds  of  the  powers  at 
Constantinople,  and  the  victorious  Pepin  was  met  by 
a  Byzantine  ambassador  who  entreated  him  to  restore 
Ravenna  and  the  other  duchies  to  the  Eastern  Empire. 
But  the  Frankish  king  shook  his  head;  for  St.  Peter 
and  the  remission  of  his  sins  he  had  undertaken  the 
war,  he  said,  and  on  the  shrine  of  St.  Peter  he  pro- 
posed to  lay  the  fruits  of  his  victory.  And  he  did  as 
he  said.  At  the  head  of  a  military  division,  the  abbot 
Fulrad  went  with  the  Lombard  commissioners  from 
city  to  city,  gathering  the  keys  and  hostages,  and  all 
these  Fulrad  took  to  Rome,  depositing  in  the  Confes- 
sion of  St.  Peter  the  keys  of  the  conquered  cities  to- 
gether with  the  deed  in  which  their  conqueror  made 
them  over  to  the  apostle  and  his  successors. 

Thus  was  the  State  of  the  Church  born.  All  the 
circumstances  of  the  time  conspired  to  bring  it  about. 

C56] 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

Under  the  protection  of  the  Prankish  monarch  it  was 
placed  by  the  grateful  pope,  who  bestowed  upon  Pepin 
the  title  of  Patrician  of  the  Romans.  Other  popes 
extended  its  confines,  and  not  many  years  went  by 
before  there  was  revived  the  tradition  of  imperial  pro- 
tection, when  Leo  crowned  Charlemagne  emperor  of 
the  Romans  and  the  Western  Empire  arose  on  the 
ruins  of  the  Eastern. 

This  is  a  segment  of  the  record  of  the  progress  of 
the  church:  not  its  spiritual  progress  so  much  as  its 
temporal  or  material  progress.  What  is  it  we  see  in 
it,  now  that  we  examine  it  closely?  And  what  is  it 
that  others  see?  Draper,  the  Protestant  historian, 
sees  the  cunning  machinations  of  a  perfectly  organ- 
ized priesthood;  the  triumph  of  a  selfish,  corrupt, 
superstitious,  but  marvellously  subtle  and  politic 
priestcraft.  By  no  other  hypothesis  can  he  account 
for  the  survival  of  the  Roman  Church — by  no  other 
hypothesis  because  the  only  alternative  never  sug- 
gests itself  to  his  unconsciously  but  completely 
prejudiced  mind. 

Macaulay  sees  in  a  still  greater  segment  something 
he  cannot  quite  understand,  but  which  compels,  as  he 
admits,  his  reluctant  admiration.  He  accounts  for  it 
on  the  theory  that  "the  polity  of  the  Church  of  Rome 
is  the  very  masterpiece  of  human  wisdom."  He  speaks 
of  the  "forty  generations  of  statesmen"  whose  experi- 
ence gave  perfection  to  that  polity.  But  what  made 
these  popes  statesmen?  Many  of  them,  before  the 
time  of  which  we  treat,  and  after,  were  simple-minded 
religious  enthusiasts,  mortifying  their  flesh  with 
haircloth  shirts  under  the  splendid  pontifical  vest- 

Isil 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

ments  they  wore.  Many  of  them  were  the  children  of 
peasants  and  tradesmen  who  had  graduated  up 
through  the  priesthood  to  the  primacy  of  the  church. 
Was  there  really  something  else — something  Ma- 
caulay  could  not  see  because  of  the  traditions  that  had 
come  down  to  him  and  the  environment  that  affected 
even  his  enlightened  mind? 

What  is  there  to  see  really,  if  we  look  at  these 
things  just  as  we  look  at  political  events  of  a  more  im- 
mediate past — the  Spanish-American  War,  for  in- 
stance, or  the  present  seizure  of  Tripoli  by  the  Italian 
government?  Is  there  priestcraft  reaching  out  for 
power?  Or  is  there  the  picture  of  a  world  over  which 
the  system  of  law  had  broken  down,  an  empire  whose 
dead  members,  having  sloughed  off,  became  pos- 
sessed of  a  new,  fierce  life  and  turned  to  rend  the  body 
from  which  natural  decay  had  dissevered  them?  And 
in  the  midst  of  the  bloody  chaos  is  the  human  organi- 
zation that  holds  the  living  light  of  a  divine  faith,  and 
that  turns  this  way  and  that,  pleads  and  protests, 
gives  blows  and  blessings,  in  a  day-to-day  struggle 
against  the  extinction  of  that  light  in  the  warring 
tides  of  ignorance  and  blood.  And  out  of  it  all  there 
comes  the  only  thing  that  could  come  if  darkness 
were  not  to  swallow  the  world,  as  the  Indians  believe 
it  does  when  the  ecliptic  shadow  falls  across  the  hills 
and  valleys:  a  human  state  supporting  the  spiritual 
church,  as  the  dark  tower  of  rock  supports  the  shining 
beam  whose  glory  streams  out  over  the  troubled 
waters. 

It  was  a  state  to  vex  sovereigns  whose  inclinations, 
otherwise  unchecked  by  any  law,  were  called  to  ac- 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  PAPAL  STATE 

countability  here.  It  was  a  state  against  which  they 
could  rouse  the  race  prejudice  when  religious  con- 
straint chafed  their  licentious  spirits.  It  was  some- 
thing that  was  bound  to  have  some  of  the  corruption 
without  which  no  human  government  has  ever  been, 
and  to  be  open  to  attack  therefor,  and  to  a  fierce  ar- 
raignment in  which  a  pinch  of  truth  might  be  used  to 
flavor  an  ocean  of  falsehood. 


C593 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

THE  mind  that  is  accustomed  to  the  contem- 
plation of  society's  present  form  of  political 
organization  finds  itself  vexed  by  a  study  of 
the  middle  ages.  We  may  say  that  now  we  deal  in 
world  politics  with  solids:  Bosnia  and  Herzegovina 
may  be  severed  from  the  Turkish  Empire  and  become 
part  of  the  Austrian,  Tripolitania  may  be  annexed  to 
the  Italian  dominion,  independent  sovereignty  may 
be  ended  in  the  Dutch  republics  of  southern  Africa  to 
make  them  part  of  the  British  Empire,  the  Philippine 
Islands  may  be  wrested  from  Spain  and  attached, 
more  or  less  securely,  to  the  American  Union,  but  it  is 
always  a  movement  of  pieces  of  things;  it  is  like  a 
breaking  off  and  a  sticking  together  of  rigid  sub- 
stances. Unlike  it  altogether  are  the  political  changes 
of  the  middle  ages.  States  seemed  fluid  then,  or  so 
slightly  solidified  that  with  amazing  frequency  and 
facility  they  were  liquefied  and  disintegrated.  There 
was  a  lack  of  stability;  there  was  no  fixity  of  terri- 
torial lines;  Europe  showed  a  kaleidoscopic  political 
face.  It  was  a  huge,  grotesque,  magic  countenance 
with  changeable  features,  like  one  of  its  characteristic 
gargoyles  whose  nose  wouldn't  stay  where  it  be- 
longed. The  Western  emperor  was  not  always  of  the 
same  nationality,  as  had  been  for  so  long  the  case  with 
the  Romans  and  with  the  Greeks ;  sometimes  he  was  a 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

Frank,  sometimes  a  German,  sometimes  an  Italian, 
sometimes  a  Lombard  duke.  A  king  might  be  vassal 
to  a  lesser  lord  or  an  ecclesiastical  dignitary  with  re- 
gard to  some  of  his  provinces,  or,  it  might  be,  only 
some  of  his  castles,  while  with  regard  to  the  rest  of 
his  domain  he  owed  allegiance  to  none.  Law  is  to-day 
dependent  ultimately  upon  force,  but  in  those  days  it 
was  more  frankly  and  intimately  dependent.  A  ruler 
was  less  likely  to  ask  himself,  "Have  I  a  legal  right?" 
than  "Have  I  enough  lances?"  A  vassal  was  more 
likely  to  ask,  "May  I  safely  rebel?"  than  "Must  I 
legally  obey?"  Then  further  to  obscure  national 
lines  came  the  crusades,  the  development  of  chivalry, 
the  birth  and  growth  of  monastic  military  orders  like 
the  Templars  and  the  Hospitallers,  that  spread  a  net- 
work of  iron  over  all  the  nations  of  Christendom,  ex- 
citing the  fear  and  the  jealousy  of  kings. 

Yet  underneath  all  this  there  was  a  uniform  basis ; 
throughout  this  strange  society  there  was  a  universal 
influence,  behind  all  this  lawlessness  there  was  law. 
The  legal  principle  of  the  feudal  constitution  was 
that  accountability  was  due  to  the  source  of  power. 
It  is  the  political  legal  principle  to-day.  The  only 
difference  is  that  the  feudal  lord  never  thought  of  the 
ultimate  source,  but  only  of  the  immediate  source.  If 
he  held  his  fief  from  a  duke,  then  it  was  to  the  duke  he 
owed  allegiance.  If  a  pope  bestowed  a  duchy  on  a 
Farnese,  then  were  all  the  heirs  and  successors  of  that 
Farnese  bound  to  render  feudal  service  to  the  succes- 
sors of  that  pope.  If  a  king  gave  a  province  or  a  castle 
to  a  brave  lance,  then  from  that  lance  to  that  king, 
and  from  the  successors  of  that  lance  to  the  successors 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

of  that  king,  was  homage  due.  Nobody  then  thought 
of  the  people  as  the  source  of  power — least  of  all  the 
people  themselves. 

That  was  the  principle  of  the  political  law  of  Europe 
in  the  middle  ages,  often  violated  but  always  recog- 
nized. Around  that  principle  grew  up  a  system  of 
common  law,  and  that  system  was  animated  and 
informed  by  the  comprehensive  influence  of  Christen- 
dom. Behind  it  was  the  coercive  power  of  an  unrec- 
ognized but  potent  public  opinion  which,  united 
upon  no  other  thing,  was  focalized  upon  the  beneficial 
effect  of  a  common  religion.  For  this  was  the  one 
thing  that  dignified  the  toiler  of  that  age — his  con- 
sciousness that  he  was  a  member  of  the  church  of  God 
in  common  with  all  the  toilers  of  all  the  Christian 
nations,  and  that  between  his  helplessness  and  the 
absolute  power  of  his  lord  that  church  interposed  its 
moral  code.  It  was  the  only  institution  in  that  day 
that  opened  its  doors  to  him;  every  other  path  of  ad- 
vancement was  barred  to  the  lowly  save  that  which 
led  to  St.  Peter's  chair,  for  peasant  priests  there  were 
many  and  peasant  popes  were  not  infrequent.  It  was 
the  only  institution  that  made  a  place  for  the  great 
mass;  it  was  the  visible  and  palpable  embodiment  of 
justice  to  a  people  who  gave  little  thought  to  abstrac- 
tions but  hungered  for  material  signs. 

It  is  remarkable  that  in  all  the  struggles  between 
the  church  and  the  state  in  the  middle  ages,  there  is 
always  something  which  concerns  the  rights  of  the 
common  people.  We  can,  for  the  present,  leave  to 
theologians  the  correctness  of  Boniface  VIII's  posi- 
tion in  his  long  struggle  with  Philip  the  Fair  of 

C62] 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

France,  but  we  will  note  among  the  causes  for  com- 
plaint urged  by  the  pope  against  the  king  was  the  de- 
basement of  the  coinage  and  the  subsequent  suffering 
of  the  common  people.  We  read  the  long  complaint  of 
a  German  emperor  against  a  pope  with  whom  he  was 
in  conflict,  and  his  reproach,  "by  the  doing  of  which 
you  have  gained  the  applause  of  the  vulgar."  We  see 
widows  appealing  to  the  church  for  justice  against  the 
rapacity  of  rulers;  we  see  the  abandoned  and  impris- 
oned wife  of  Philip  Augustus  appealing  to  the  church 
against  her  royal  husband ;  we  see  the  wife  of  the  im- 
prisoned Richard  of  England  urging  the  church  to 
strike  with  the  spiritual  sword  the  faithless  German 
emperor  who  had  imprisoned  her  husband.  Through- 
out Europe  the  confidence  in  the  readiness  of  the 
church  to  defend  the  weak — who  had  no  other  de- 
fender then — was  universal.  And  not  only  the  peas- 
ant and  the  widow  turned  to  the  church  in  their 
distress:  barons  and  princes  and  kings  and  emperors 
did  likewise.  Under  the  protection  of  St.  Peter,  the 
king  about  to  embark  on  a  crusade  would  leave  his 
kingdom;  against  the  ruthless  power  of  a  stronger 
neighbor  a  wronged  duke  would  make  complaint  to 
the  primate  of  the  church.  If  two  kings  were  at  war 
and  the  arbitrament  of  the  sword  was  unsatisfactory, 
the  pope  became  the  arbitrator,  the  justice  of  whose 
decree  was  assumed  in  advance. 

The  precedent  of  the  coronation  of  Charlemagne  as 
emperor  of  the  West  made  it  law  that  the  pope  should 
confirm  the  election  of  an  emperor  whose  first  duty 
was  the  protection  of  the  church.  The  conferring  of 
many  of  the  estates  of  the  church  upon  temporal 

[633 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

rulers  as  fiefs  of  the  church  gave  the  pope  by  the  law 
of  the  time  a  sovereignty  that  was  political  as  well  as 
spiritual  over  such  estates.  The  voluntary  assumption 
of  feudal  obligations  by  the  rulers  of  other  states 
made  them,  also,  subject  to  the  pope  in  a  political  way. 

Meanwhile  Christianity  was  working  upon  the 
moral  constitution  of  the  men  who  made  up  the  world 
of  the  middle  ages.  It  gave  a  noble  tendency  to  the 
military  enthusiasm  of  the  day  by  teaching  that  gen- 
tleness was  the  obligation  of  the  strong.  It  means 
something  that  then  there  came  into  English  the  title 
"gentle-man,"  applied,  paradoxically,  to  those  whose 
rude  trade  was  war ;  every  Romance  language  had  an 
equivalent  for  that  title.  Knighthood  received  its  sense 
of  obligation  from  the  church;  at  the  altar  of  the 
Prince  of  Peace  the  youthful  soldier  prayed  at  the 
threshold  of  his  career,  clad  in  his  robe  of  spotless 
white  to  symbolize  the  purity  of  his  devotion;  to  the 
cause  of  Christ  and  his  church  he  consecrated  his  vir- 
gin sword ;  to  the  succor  of  the  weak  and  the  defense 
of  the  widow  and  the  orphan  he  pledged  his  lance  by 
the  oaths  that  the  church  prescribed.  He  must  be 
brave  and  tender  and  truthful,  he  must  keep  his  honor 
untarnished. 

And  these  were  the  days  of  the  torture-chamber! 
These  were  the  days  of  private  and  public  wars  innu- 
merable !  These  were  the  days  when  human  life  was 
held  cheap  not  only  by  those  who  sought  to  take  it, 
but  often  by  those  who  parted  with  it  laughingly. 

At  first  blush  we  find  it  strange  that  the  crimes  re- 
corded could  have  been  so  common  in  the  days  when 
devotion  was  so  intense,  when  there  was  so  passionate 

C64] 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

an  idealism  in  the  world.  But  it  is  not  so  strange.  If 
there  was  one  characteristic  of  the  age,  it  seems  to  me 
that  it  was  the  utter  lack  of  self-restraint.  The  power 
of  self-constraint  was  intense;  men  would  dare  and  do 
anything  for  an  ideal,  but  it  was  another  matter  to 
refrain  from  doing.  We  read  of  Henry  II  of  England 
chewing  his  lips  until  his  mouth  was  covered  with  a 
bloody  froth  in  his  rage  against  Thomas  a  Becket. 
Frederick  Barbarossa  beat  his  head  against  the  wall 
when  unable  to  execute  his  whim,  and  wished  that  he, 
like  Saladin,  had  no  pope  to  vex  him.  Philip  the  Fair 
of  France  was  not  satisfied  with  the  death  of  his  papal 
enemy,  but  must  drag  him  back  from  the  grave  to 
have  him  tried  on  monstrous  charges  which  dead  lips 
could  not  deny. 

Possibly  the  best  illustration  of  that  devotion  which 
found  outlet  in  violent  expression,  but  could  not  en- 
dure self-repression,  is  the  letter  the  landgrave  Philip 
of  Hesse  wrote  to  Melahchthon  and  the  leaders  of 
German  Protestantism  whose  sanction  to  a  divorce 
from  his  wife  he  begged.  He  made  no  charges  against 
the  lady  at  all.  It  was  not  difficult  for  him  to  establish 
his  devotion  to  the  cause  of  the  Reformation — had  he 
not  given  the  last  proof  on  many  a  sanguinary  battle- 
field of  his  willingness  to  die  for  it? — but  to  live  in 
fidelity  to  his  marriage  vows  for  more  than  a  week  at 
a  time,  for  religion  or  anything  else  whatsoever,  was 
simply  impossible,  so,  please,  he  wanted  a  divorce.  And 
the  Protestant  landgrave  is  only  one  of  several  such 
examples  which  may  be  summoned  from  the  ghostly 
halls  of  history.  Many  a  gallant  Christian  leader  in 
earlier  days,  when  there  was  no  Protestant  cause, 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

found  it  far  more  to  his  liking  to  fight  for  religion  than 
to  live  according  to  her  precepts.  Nearly  all  the  causes 
of  quarrel  between  historical  personages  and  the  pope 
had  this  element.  The  Catholic  Philip  Augustus  and 
the  Protestant  Henry  VIII — if  Henry  can  truly  be 
called  a  Protestant — found  most  irksome  the  matri- 
monial regulations  of  that  church  which  one  so  vigor- 
ously defended  with  his  sword  and  the  other  with  his 
pen.  The  valiant  soldiers  of  the  Cross  who  joyfully 
undertook  the  hardships  of  distant  travel  and  the 
perils  of  war  with  a  savage  heathen  foe,  knelt  in  hu- 
mility and  devotion  to  receive  the  Substance  of  the 
Lord  from  the  hands  of  the  priest  on  the  morning  of 
battle,  and  then  abandoned  themselves  to  a  blood-lust 
that  spared  nothing  human. 

It  is  a  marvellous  age,  an  amazing  time !  We  who 
live  in  the  security  of  civilized  life,  who  carefully  pro- 
tect ourselves  from  every  evil  against  which  science 
has  devised  a  safeguard,  whose  faith  is  shallow  and 
whose  dread  of  death  is  deep,  find  it  hard  to  under- 
stand the  men  of  that  age  so  long  gone  by.  They  were 
gay.  The  oppressed  villein  laughed  in  his  miserable 
bare  hut;  the  outlaw  laughed  in  Sherwood  Forest 
while  his  minstrel  sang  to  him  in  humorous  descrip- 
tion of  the  gibbet  on  which  he  was  likely  to  end  his 
mortal  days ;  the  rude  baron,  in  his  stone  halls,  drank 
deep  and  laughed  loud ;  the  parish  priest  was  cheery 
and  merry.  It  was  in  those  days  that  England  was 
called  "Merrie  England."  It  was  in  those  days  that 
the  troubadours  laughed  at  everything  in  their  gay  ir- 
reverence, behind  which  there  was  perhaps  a  deeper 
reverence  than  we  know. 

C66] 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

They  were  brave.  If,  in  their  superstition,  ghostly 
things  had  terrors  for  them,  actual  death  had  none. 
They  endured  physical  pain  with  a  wonderful  spirit: 
how  it  makes  the  heart  beat  to  recall  the  one  hundred 
and  thirty  knights  of  the  condemned  Temple  Order 
who  went  to  the  fire  in  splendid  procession,  each  look- 
ing upon  death  in  its  most  frightful  aspect  with  calm, 
contemptuous  eyes,  professing,  as  the  flames  wrapped 
his  body  round,  his  simple  faith  in  the  church  whose 
priest  had  condemned  him,  and  protesting  the  inno- 
cence of  his  great  order!  I  sometimes  think  that  it 
was  more  because  of  the  heroic  temper  of  the  men  of 
that  age  than  because  of  their  cruelty  that  the  torture 
became  a  part  of  the  judicial  process.  To-day  simple 
death  is  sufficient  to  inspire  fear  in  the  mind  of  man; 
then  something  more  terrifying  than  death  had  to  be 
employed. 

They  were  violently  virtuous.  Their  penances 
were  real ;  not  the  mere  recitation  of  prayers,  not  the 
simple  mental  humiliation  satisfied  the  penitent — an 
emperor  of  Germany  stands  for  three  bitter  days  in 
the  snow  at  the  gate  of  a  church,  shivering  in  the  bit- 
ter blast,  to  gain  the  pardon  of  the  offended  priest  of 
God.  Thousands  leave  their  castles  and  their  fertile 
fields,  their  servants  and  their  families,  to  go  on  foot, 
by  roads  infested  with  robber  bands,  through  coun- 
tries strange  in  speech  and  custom,  and  at  last  in 
creed,  penniless  and  in  poor  garb,  in  order  to  gain  the 
forgiveness  of  God. 

But  if  violently  virtuous,  they  are  also  violently  evil 
—in  all  things  they  are  violent.  The  rage  of  Sciarra 
Colonna  drives  his  mailed  fist  at  the  triple-crowned 

[67] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

head  of  the  venerable  vicar  of  Christ;  the  rude  clutch 
of  William  de  Nogaret  plucks  the  primate  of  Christen- 
dom from  the  throne  of  Peter  and  hurls  the  aged  but 
indomitable  prelate,  feeble  in  body  because  of  his 
eighty-six  years,  but  strong  in  mind  and  spirit  still, 
among  the  hired  banditti  who  did  the  will  of  Philip  of 
France  at  Anagni. 

What  thought  a  ruler  then  of  the  rights  of  subjects? 
Who  among  the  kings  and  dukes  cared  a  snap  of  his 
fingers  for  abstract  right  and  wrong  where  his  pas- 
sions were  engaged  ?  What  was  the  state  ?  Was  it  an 
organization  for  the  public  good?  Who  dreamed,  in 
state  affairs,  of  the  public  good?  What  were  the 
political  questions  of  the  day?  The  amours  of  a  king. 
The  question  of  the  marriage  of  his  son  or  his  daugh- 
ter. The  divorce  of  his  wife.  The  support  of  his  mis- 
tress. The  assassination  of  his  rival.  The  extortion 
of  money  from  his  people.  The  robbery  of  his  neigh- 
bors. Adultery,  murder,  robbery — these  were  the 
political  questions  of  the  middle  ages ;  these  were  the 
matters  upon  which  monarchs  claimed  independence 
of  the  popes. 

And  what  was  the  state?  Was  it  not  what  Louis 
XIV  declared  it  to  be  in  his  famous  "L'Etat  c'est 
moi"?  Government  was  personal,  national  welfare 
meant  the  aggrandizement  of  the  monarch,  the  feed- 
ing fat  of  his  hunger  for  wealth  and  power  and  glory. 
The  King  of  France  called  himself  "France,"  and  ad- 
dressed his  brother  monarch  as  "England."  When  a 
German  ruler  said,  "We  are  dealing  with  Aragon," 
what  he  meant,  and  what  everybody  knew  he  meant, 
was  that  he  was  dealing  with  Ferdinand.  Rulers 
called  themselves  "we." 

C68] 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

What  would  have  been  the  result  if  these  rulers, 
each  intent  upon  his  own  satisfaction,  had  imposed 
always  their  own  whims  upon  those  subject  to  them? 
What  would  have  fallen  upon  the  world  if  the  abso- 
lute freedom  from  responsibility  they  craved  had  been 
freely  granted  them?  What  if  there  had  been  noth- 
ing to  oppose  their  selfish  violence;  no  force  in  all 
Europe  to  say  them  nay?  If  you  consider  what  they 
were  and  what  they  knew,  how  strong  were  their 
bodies,  how  fearless  their  spirit,  how  fierce  their  pride, 
how  headlong  and  ruthless  their  violence,  what  pic- 
ture does  your  mind  reflect  of  a  world  left  to  their 
mercies? 

Against  this  violence,  this  fierce  and  passionate  self- 
assertion,  stood  the  philosophy  and  the  teaching  of 
the  church.  Against  the  idea  of  the  irresponsibility  of 
kings  stood  the  church  doctrine  of  the  accountability 
of  all  human  creatures,  kings  and  subjects,  princes 
and  peasants,  for  their  moral  conduct.  Again  and 
again  the  prelates  of  the  church  declared,  when  none 
else  was  so  bold  as  to  declare  it,  that  he  was  no  king 
who  ruled  unjustly  and  wickedly,  but  a  tyrant.  The 
passion  of  the  day  was  war:  the  church  preached 
peace  among  the  Christian  nations.  The  selfishness 
of  power  demanded  slavery :  the  church  preached  that 
no  Christian  should  be  a  chattel.  The  church  set  its 
ban  upon  trial  by  ordeal.  It  preached  self-restraint, 
and  its  servants  banded  themselves  into  societies 
where  self-restraint  might  be  practised  as  an  example 
and  an  expiation.  With  a  rigid  moral  code  that  was 
practical  and  precise  in  detail  it  checked  the  licentious- 
ness of  the  age,  and  I  use  the  word  licentiousness  in 
the  most  comprehensive  sense. 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

In  the  collision  of  the  two  psychological  forces,  the 
savage  and  the  civilized,  the  licentious  and  the  lawful, 
occurred  those  things  which  have  shocked  historical 
precisians  who  fail  to  perceive  the  vast  difference  be- 
tween writing  a  law  and  getting  men  to  live  by  it. 
The  church's  moral  power  was  backed  by  physical 
power.  The  very  passionate  objective  expression  of 
the  age  that  made  the  control  of  temporal  rulers  diffi- 
cult, furnished  material  weapons  for  the  pope.  If 
there  was  a  de  Nogaret,  with  a  heart  of  fierce  hate,  to 
pull  the  pope  down,  there  were  thousands  of  proud 
warriors  ready  and  eager  with  as  fierce  a  devotion  to 
exalt  him.  Colonna's  mercenaries  thrust  the  aged 
Boniface  into  prison;  the  armed  peasantry  stormed 
the  prison  walls  to  set  him  free.  The  savage  Roman 
barons  drove  the  pope  from  Rome,  and  the  Norman 
warriors  fiercely  put  the  Romans  to  the  sword  in  re- 
storing the  pontiff  to  his  seat. 

Here  on  two  sides,  then,  were  there  directing  and 
compelling  forces  of  the  same  nature  bearing  in  upon 
the  rebellious  inclinations  of  temporal  powers.  The 
Christian  peoples,  including  the  lower  as  well  as  the 
upper  orders,  and  even  the  kings  themselves  when 
their  desires  were  not  opposed  and  their  selfish  pas- 
sions not  engaged,  made  the  law  of  the  church  their 
law.  It  had  been  so  from  the  age  of  Theodosius,  the 
moral  precepts  of  the  church  had  been  written  into 
the  imperial  statutes.  More  and  more  it  became  so  in 
western  Europe — naturally,  necessarily.  To  whom 
did  all  these  people  of  the  West  look  for  inspiration 
and  moral  law?  Was  it  not  the  church?  How  could 
it  have  been  possible  for  a  generation  so  headlong  in 

C703 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

its  devotion  to  form  a  system  of  laws  that  was  not,  in 
all  that  then  seemed  to  them  virtuous  and  just,  based 
upon  and  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  precepts  of  that 
institution  that  men — even  those  who  fought  it — be- 
lieved to  be  of  divine  inspiration  and  divine  authority? 
"Men  then  believed  their  form  of  faith,"  says  John  W. 
Draper,  and  no  more  bitter  critic  of  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic Church  ever  wrote,  "with  the  same  clearness,  the 
same  intensity,  with  which  they  believed  their  own 
existence  or  the  actual  presence  of  things  upon  which 
they  cast  their  eyes.  The  doctrines  of  the  church 
were  to  them  no  mere  inconsequential  affair,  but  an 
absolute,  an  actual  reality,  a  living  and  a  fearful 
thing."  And  such  men,  so  believing,  were  bound  un- 
der the  laws  of  human  nature  to  make  the  civil  rein- 
force the  ecclesiastical  law.  So  we  find  that  not  only 
infractions  of  the  moral  code,  as  it  is  to-day  univer- 
sally understood,  but  violations  of  the  church  law 
were  prohibited  by  the  civil  statutes.  The  law  of  the 
empire  as  well  as  the  law  of  the  church  made  heresy  a 
crime ;  the  church  punished  it  with  the  spiritual  sword, 
the  civil  government  with  the  stake  and  the  gibbet. 
Rulers  deemed  it  dangerous  to  the  state  that  heresy 
should  spread  among  the  people :  they  left  the  deter- 
mination of  what  was  heresy  to  the  theologians,  but 
the  punishment  they  took  into  their  own  hands.  The 
only  punishment  the  church  ever  inflicted  on  John 
Huss  was  spiritual :  his  doctrines  were  declared  to  be 
heretical,  and  he  was  stripped  of  his  vestments  and 
degraded  from  the  priestly  office.  His  execution,  for 
a  crime  against  the  civil  law,  was  the  act  of  the  emperor. 
These  were  the  words  in  which  the  Council  of  Con- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

stance  dismissed  his  case:  "Since  Holy  Church  has 
nothing  more  to  perform  in  the  case  of  John  Huss, 
this  Holy  Synod  of  Constance  decrees  that  he  be  de- 
livered to  the  secular  judgment  and  the  secular 
power." 

Professor  Draper  and  many  other  historians  have 
laid  upon  the  shoulders  of  the  church  all  the  atrocities 
of  the  time,  but  historical  research  confirms  what 
common  sense  would  conclude,  that  an  institution  de- 
pending for  general  recognition  of  its  divine  character 
upon  an  ideal  could  not  have  been  steeped  in  crimes 
that  even  that  violent  age  abhorred.  In  such  research, 
according  to  the  editors  of  the  Cambridge  Modern 
History,  "the  honest  student  finds  himself  continually 
deserted,  retarded,  misled  by  the  classics  of  historical 
literature,  and  has  to  hew  his  own  way  through 
multitudinous  transaction  periodicals  and  official  pub- 
lications in  order  to  reach  the  truth."  The  same  au- 
thorities state  that  "the  long  conspiracy  against  the 
revelation  of  the  truth  has  gradually  given  way."  I 
think  they  are  wrong  in  assuming  it  to  be  a  con- 
spiracy. No  doubt  many  a  historian  wrote  atrocious 
falsehoods  as  facts,  not  because  he  conspired  against 
the  truth,  but  because  he  believed  his  falsehoods  to  be 
facts.  He  depended  on  what  "everybody  knows."  My 
theory  with  regard  to  it  is  this :  Throughout  Europe, 
and  especially  among  the  common  people,  there  was 
the  same  idea  with  regard  to  persons  in  official  life 
that  prevails  among  Americans  to-day.  Superstition 
was  prevalent;  men  believed  in  speaking  heads,  in 
witches,  in  a  hundred  other  absurdities.  Among  the 
superstitious  peoples,  and  particularly  those  of  north- 

C7O 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

ern  Europe,  all  sorts  of  stories  passed  current — stories 
of  kings  and  knights  and  bishops  and  popes.  The  ac- 
cusations that  an  emperor  in  his  wrath  would  hurl  at 
a  pontiff  sifted  down  to  the  peasantry  in  every  exag- 
gerated form  and  became  a  part  of  the  inn-yard  gossip 
in  many  a  distant  province.  Often,  changed  marvel- 
lously in  the  telling,  they  persisted  long  after  the  em- 
peror and  the  pontiff  had  forgotten  them — indeed, 
long  after  emperor  and  pontiff  had  appeared  at  the  bar 
of  a  Higher  Judge — and  generation  passed  them  on  to 
generation.  We  have  evidence  in  America  of  a  Maine 
farmer  who  for  nearly  ninety  years  voted  for  Andrew 
Jackson  for  President. 

All  this  tavern  gossip,  all  the  countryside  scandals, 
the  first  preachers  of  the  Reformation  gathered  to- 
gether, adding  it  to  the  abuses  acknowledged  to  exist 
in  the  organization  of  the  church.  The  plots  of  Boc- 
caccio's lewd  jokes,  the  subject  of  the  jongleur's  ir- 
reverent ballads — these  were  seriously  put  forward  as 
proven  facts,  and  a  not  too  inquisitive  Protestant  ad- 
vocacy so  accepted  them.  And  so  they  came  down  to 
the  Protestant  writers  of  conventional  history,  and 
from  them  they  came  down  to  us.  Draper,  for  instance, 
lays  the  blame  of  the  sack  of  Constantinople  by  the 
crusaders  on  the  church,  although  quoting  Pope  Inno- 
cent's indignant  protest  against  the  enormities  of  that 
pillage.  The  church  is  held  up  as  responsible  for  the 
cruelties  even  of  those  Christian  princes  with  whom 
she  was  constantly  in  trouble  because  of  her  refusal  to 
remain  silent  in  the  face  of  their  public  offenses  against 
the  moral  law.  The  soldiers  she  employed  were  often 
cruel:  the  soldiers  of  that  excessive  age  were  nearly 

C73] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

always  cruel.  They  liked  to  smite  with  the  sword,  and 
they  found  it  comfortable  to  believe  that  they  might 
smite  without  scruple  when  they  smote  an  enemy  of 
Christ.  A  bias  in  favor  of  our  own  frailties  is  not  so 
rare  in  this  age  that  we  should  not  expect  to  find  it  in 
other  ages.  There  are  men  to-day  who  can  pray  and 
prey  at  the  same  time;  is  it  odd  that  such  existed  in 
the  earlier  generations?  The  false  conscience  is  not 
peculiar  to  this  day  of  the  world.  But  it  was  no  more 
encouraged  by  the  Christian  church,  as  far  as  the  rec- 
ord runs,  in  the  middle  ages  than  it  is  to-day.  But 
because  soldiers  were  cruel,  why  should  the  church, 
whose  constant  preaching  was  in  favor  of  mercy,  be 
held  responsible?  Does  common  sense  to-day  hold 
responsible  for  the  ferocious  conduct  alleged  of  the 
soldiers  of  the  Italian  king  in  Tripoli,  the  Pope  of 
Rome,  simply  because  the  king  is  a  Christian  king  and 
he  has  appealed  to  the  old  crusading  sentiment  of 
Europe  by  announcing  his  purpose  of  "planting  the 
Cross  in  Tripoli"? 

We  have  said  that  there  were  two  forces  of  the  same 
nature  bearing  in  upon  the  law-making  civil  powers. 
One  such  force  was  public  opinion.  The  people  of 
that  time  willed  it  that  the  law  of  the  church  should  be 
their  law.  Why  did  they  so  will  it?  Let  Professor 
Draper  answer — a  prejudice  in  favor  of  the  church 
will  never  be  alleged  of  him.  After  indicting  and  con- 
victing of  every  crime  imaginable  a  long  succession  of 
the  pontiffs,  laying  at  their  doors  impurity,  licentious- 
ness, blood-guilt,  simony,  blasphemy,  and  atheism,  he 
concludes  a  chapter  on  "The  European  Age  of  Faith" 
thus: 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

"But  there  is  another,  a  very  different  aspect,  under 
which  we  must  regard  this  church.  Enveloped  as  it 
was  with  the  many  evils  of  the  time,  the  truly  Chris- 
tian principle  which  was  at  its  basis  perpetually  vin- 
dicated its  power,  giving  rise  to  numberless  blessings 
in  spite  of  the  degradation  and  wickedness  of  man.  As 
I  have  elsewhere  remarked :  'The  civil  law  exerted  an 
exterior  power  in  human  relations;  Christianity  pro- 
duced an  interior  and  moral  change.  The  idea  of  an 
ultimate  accountability  for  personal  deeds,  of  which 
the  old  Europeans  had  an  indistinct  perception,  be- 
came intense  and  precise.  The  sentiment  of  universal 
charity  was  exemplified,  not  only  in  individual  acts 
the  remembrance  of  which  soon  passes  away,  but  in 
the  more  permanent  institution  of  establishments  for 
the  relief  of  affliction,  the  spread  of  knowledge,  the 
propagation  of  truth.  Of  the  great  ecclesiastics,  many 
had  risen  from  the  humblest  ranks  of  society,  and 
these  men,  true  to  their  democratic  instincts,  were  often 
found  to  be  the  inflexible  supporters  of  right  against 
might.  Eventually  coming  to  be  the  depositaries  of 
the  knowledge  that  then  existed,  they  opposed  intel- 
lect to  brute  force,  in  many  instances  successfully,  and 
by  example  of  the  organization  of  the  church,  which 
was  essentially  republican,  they  showed  how  repre- 
sentative systems  may  be  introduced  into  the  state. 
Nor  was  it  over  communities  and  states  that  the 
church  displayed  her  chief  power.  Never  in  the  world 
before  was  there  such  a  system.  From  her  central 
seat  at  Rome,  her  all-seeing  eye,  like  that  of  Provi- 
dence itself,  could  equally  take  in  a  hemisphere  at  a 
glance  or  examine  the  private  life  of  any  individual. 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Her  boundless  influences  enveloped  kings  in  their 
palaces  and  relieved  the  beggar  at  the  monastery  gate. 
In  all  Europe  there  was  not  a  man  too  obscure,  too  in- 
significant, or  too  desolate  for  her.  Surrounded  by 
her  solemnities,  every  one  received  his  name  at  the 
altar ;  her  bells  chimed  at  his  marriage,  her  knell  tolled 
at  his  funeral.  She  extorted  from  him  the  secrets  of 
his  life  at  her  confessionals,  and  punished  his  faults  by 
her  penances.  In  his  hour  of  sickness  and  trouble  her 
servants  sought  him  out,  teaching  him  by  her  exqui- 
site litanies  and  prayers  to  place  his  reliance  on  God, 
or  strengthening  him  for  the  trials  of  life  by  the  exam- 
ple of  the  holy  and  the  just.  Her  prayers  had  an 
efficacy  to  give  repose  to  the  souls  of  his  dead.  When, 
even  to  his  friends,  his  lifeless  body  had  become  an 
offense,  in  the  name  of  God  she  received  it  into  her 
consecrated  ground,  and  under  her  shadow  he  rested 
till  the  great  reckoning-day.  From  little  better  than 
a  slave  she  raised  his  wife  to  be  his  equal,  and,  forbid- 
ding him  to  have  more  than  one,  met  her  recompense 
for  those  noble  deeds  in  a  friend  at  every  fireside.  Dis- 
countenancing all  impure  love,  she  put  around  that 
fireside  the  children  of  one  mother,  and  made  that 
mother  little  less  than  sacred  in  their  eyes.  In  ages  of 
lawlessness  and  rapine,  among  people  but  a  step  above 
savages,  she  vindicated  the  inviolability  of  her  pre- 
cincts against  the  hand  of  power,  and  made  her  tem- 
ples a  refuge  and  a  sanctuary  for  the  despairing  and 
oppressed.  Truly,  she  was  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock 
in  many  a  weary  land !'  " 

We  can  readily  see  how  in  this  age,  when  nations 
are  sharply  defined  and  their  populations,  nationally 

C763 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

united,  are  denominationally  divided  in  countless 
Christian  and  non-Christian  religious  and  anti-re- 
ligious organizations,  it  is  utterly  impracticable  to 
make  the  laws  of  any  one  church  the  laws  of  a  state. 
But  in  the  time  of  which  Draper  speaks,  and  under  the 
conditions  he  describes,  can  common  sense  conceive 
of  any  other  possibility  than  the  insistence  of  the  peo- 
ple upon  civil  laws  in  consonance  with  the  precise 
precepts  of  such  an  institution?  Surely  in  a  day  when 
enlightened  opinion  is  all  on  the  side  of  the  correct- 
ness of  the  democratic  principle  of  government,  it  will 
not  be  held  that  the  nations  of  Christendom  had  not 
then  the  right  to  demand  such  laws  as  they  desired, 
nor  in  the  face  of  the  testimony  of  such  fierce  Protes- 
tants as  Draper  can  it  be  said  that  their  desire  for  the 
laws  of  the  church  was  unwise.  They  say  that  the 
pragmatic  philosophy,  the  philosophy  that  judges  by 
results,  is  the  philosophy  of  modern  America.  Judged 
by  even  that  philosophy,  was  the  impregnation  of  civil 
law  with  religious  precept  in  the  middle  ages  correct 
in  principle?  Again  let  Draper  tell  us.  "Europe  had 
made  a  vast  step  during  its  Age  of  Faith,"  he  says  in 
his  Intellectual  Development  of  Europe.  "Sponta- 
neously, it  had  grown  through  its  youth;  and  the 
Italians,  who  had  furnished  it  with  many  of  its  ideas, 
had  furnished  it  also  with  many  of  its  forms  of  life. 
In  that  respect  justice  has  still  to  be  done  them.  When 
Rome  broke  away  from  her  connections  with  Con- 
stantinople, a  cloud  of  more  than  Cimmerian  darkness 
overshadowed  Europe.  It  was  occupied  by  wander- 
ing savages.  Six  hundred  years  organized  it  into 
families,  neighborhoods,  cities.  Those  centuries  found 

[773 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

it  full  of  bondmen ;  they  left  it  without  a  slave.  They 
found  it  a  scene  of  violence,  rapine,  lust;  they  left  it 
the  abode  of  God-fearing  men.  Where  there  had  been 
trackless  forests  there  were  innumerable  steeples  glit- 
tering in  the  sun;  where  there  had  been  bloody  chief- 
tains, drinking  out  of  their  enemies'  skulls,  there  were 
grave  ecclesiasts  fathoming  the  depths  of  free-will, 
predestination,  election.  Investing  the  clergy  with  a 
mysterious  superiority,  the  Church  asserted  the 
equality  of  the  laity,  from  the  king  to  the  beggar,  be- 
fore God.  It  disregarded  wealth  and  birth  and  opened 
a  career  for  all." 

Truly,  the  world  to-day  might  well  wish  for  a  new 
Age  of  Faith! 

The  other  force  of  which  I  have  spoken  was  the  in- 
ternational law  of  the  day.  The  common  consent  of 
nations  gave  the  pope  a  position  among  the  princes 
such  as  the  lovers  of  peace  are  now  trying  to  establish 
for  the  Hague  Tribunal.  Kings  made  appeal  to  him, 
and  the  legality  of  his  decree  was  universally  recog- 
nized. In  the  light  of  this  simple  fact  there  is  noth- 
ing astonishing  in  the  bulls  which  are  held  up  as  proof 
of  the  hunger  of  the  papacy  for  temporal  power.  To 
say,  as  historians  have  said,  that  the  church  divided 
the  world  between  Spain  and  Portugal  gives  such  an 
impression  as  that,  surely;  but  how  the  impression 
fades  in  the  mind  when  we  examine  the  bulls  them- 
selves and  the  circumstances  in  which  they  were  is- 
sued, when  we  know  that  the  two  kings  of  those  two 
estates  appealed  to  the  pope,  not  for  territory,  but  for 
an  arbitration  of  certain  counterclaims  between  them. 
Then  these  bulls  appear  to  us  as  merely  the  judgment 

C78] 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

of  an  arbitrator  called  on  to  pass  on  the  merits  of  a 
controversy,  intended  to  prevent  conflict  between  two 
great  exploring  powers  over  territories  they  might 
discover,  and  not  over  lands  already  occupied,  the 
rights  of  whose  princes  are  expressly  asserted  in  the 
bull. 

I  have  tried  briefly  to  picture  the  age,  its  thought, 
its  custom,  its  law.  Judging  it  upon  such  facts  as  are 
readily  accessible,  upon  the  testimony  of  Protestant 
as  well  as  Catholic  historians,  and  in  the  light  of  ordi- 
nary common  sense,  it  seems  to  me  that  church  law 
was  civil  law  because  the  people  of  the  time  wanted  it 
so  to  be ;  that  the  political  activities  of  the  popes  were 
due  to  their  peculiar  position  in  the  world  of  that  day, 
and  to  the  wish  of  the  rulers  themselves ;  that  volun- 
tary devotion  gave  them  material  power  as  well  as  spi- 
ritual authority ;  and  finally  that  the  personal  character 
of  government  made  the  acts  of  government  for  the 
most  part  the  moral  acts  of  individuals  for  which  they 
as  individuals  were  accountable  to  God,  whose  vicar 
they  believed  the  Bishop  of  Rome  to  be.  As  I  have 
said,  the  political  acts  of  the  time  were  very  often  just 
plain  adultery,  murder,  and  robbery,  and  surely  such 
things  come  within  the  sphere  of  the  spiritual  author- 
ity. It  may  be  true  that  in  that  violent  hour,  when 
kings  dealt  out  rude  blows  with  the  mailed  fist  to 
the  very  person  of  the  pontiff,  and  thousands  of 
swords  were  ready  to  write  that  pontiff's  decrees  in 
letters  of  blood  upon  the  domain  of  his  enemy,  the  ec- 
clesiastical may  have  at  times  infringed  upon  the 
domain  of  the  civil  power.  But  if  the  pope  over- 
stepped the  limit,  the  secular  ruler  overstrode  it ;  the 

C79] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

whole  history  of  the  time  seems  an  effort  on  the  part 
of  sovereigns  to  subject  religion  to  their  interests, 
to  make  it  international  in  its  influence  with  respect  to 
their  neighbors,  but  strictly  national  with  respect  to 
dependence  upon  and  control  by  themselves.  What  is 
all  the  battle  about  investitures?  Is  it  not  the  strug- 
gle of  the  church  to  free  itself  from  the  enforced 
nomination  of  its  episcopal  dignitaries  by  the  kings 
and  emperors?  In  these  days  and  in  this  country  we 
well  know  the  meaning  of  patronage.  The  word  itself 
comes  from  those  times  and  those  countries :  the  kings 
made  the  episcopal  offices  of  the  church  the  patronage 
of  the  crown.  The  effect  of  their  policy,  which  the 
church  always  resisted,  was  to  make  the  bishops  less 
priests  than  princes,  less  servants  of  the  church  than 
ministers  of  the  king.  What  was  the  object  of  Philip 
the  Fair?  Was  it  not  to  make  a  church  universal  in 
its  influence,  but  French  in  its  inspiration  and  alle- 
giance ;  to  turn  to  his  own  earthly  account  the  powers 
that  should  be  exercised,  as  they  had  been  delegated, 
only  for  the  kingdom  of  God? 

The  hour  has  long  gone  by.  The  world  is  not  the 
same  world ;  the  state  is  not  now,  nor  can  it  ever  again 
be,  in  its  political  significance,  some  single  soul  using 
a  nation  as  his  footstool.  We  have  looked  back  to  that 
time  when  we  are  given  to  believe  there  was  a  per- 
nicious union  of  church  and  state.  We  haven't  found 
what  there  was  pernicious;  nay,  more,  we  haven't 
found  any  state.  None,  surely,  that  corresponds  to 
the  meaning  state  has  to  us  in  this  generation. 

Will  there  ever  be  such  an  hour  again?  Will  that 
knighthood  ever  again  ride  in  iron  harness  the  lonely 


THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

marches,  from  castle  to  castle,  from  walled  town  to 
walled  town?  When  it  does,  and  when  among  the 
nations  of  the  earth,  or  in  any  one  of  them,  there  is  the 
uniformity  of  religious  belief  that  then  bound  Chris- 
tendom in  a  common  faith,  instead  of  the  diversity 
that  now  sunders  it  into  countless  creeds,  perhaps 
those  who  dread  a  union  of  church  and  state  may  have 
a  cause  for  such  dread.  But  not  until  then. 


CHAPTER  V 

GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

TRUTH  is  irrepressible.  No  matter  what  may 
be  the  prejudice  of  the  man  who  knows  it,  he 
cannot  suppress  it  in  his  breast.  It  will  break 
through,  fighting  for  place  with  the  falsehoods  his 
venom  may  invent  or  his  prejudice  project.  And  com- 
mon sense  is  capable  generally  of  recognizing  the 
truth  and  the  falsehood,  if  common  sense  be  allowed 
full  play  and  be  not  blinded  by  preconceptions.  That 
is  our  safety  in  this  age.  Not  all  of  us  have  the  time 
to  search  out  the  hidden  original  documents  in  which 
the  editors  of  the  Cambridge  Modern  History  and  other 
historians  say  the  truth  lies;  indeed,  such  can  be  the 
task  of  only  a  few,  so  that  the  mind  of  the  world  must 
be  influenced  by  the  popular  histories.  But  a  little 
practical  common  sense,  such  as  we  exercise  with  re- 
gard to  business  affairs,  will  protect  us  against  many 
errors.  The  occupations  of  my  own  life  have  excluded 
such  an  engrossing  search  as  would  make  me  know 
the  details  of  life  in  remote  ages;  but  with  what  my 
common  sense  can  make  of  such  materials  as  conven- 
tional history  furnishes,  I  have  been  able  to  reach 
conclusions  which  later  have  been  confirmed  by  the 
views  of  men  of  profound  scholarship.  In  another 
place  I  advanced,  for  instance,  a  theory  with  regard  to 
the  effect  of  medieval  tavern  gossip  upon  the  minds 
of  Protestant  advocates  and  historians.  Imagine  my 

C82] 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

surprise  to  find  my  view  of  the  matter  confirmed  by 
no  less  an  authority  than  Martin  Luther.  "In  the 
taverns"  wrote  Luther,  "people  vied  with  one  an- 
other in  relating  amusing  anecdotes  about  the  ava- 
rice of  priests.  The  keys,  the  power  of  the  popes,  etc., 
were  there  also  ridiculed."  How  much  of  what  has 
colored  our  minds  with  respect  to  the  Catholic  Church 
comes  from  such  a  source;  how  much  of  it  rolled 
originally  off  the  thick  tongue  of  the  bar-room  wit? 
For  example,  that  story  of  the  female  pope  which, 
Macaulay  says  in  his  essay  on  Gladstone's  Church  and 
State,  "has  been  disproved  by  the  strict  researches  of 
modern  criticism,"  although,  as  he  informs  us  in  the 
same  sentence,  it  was  "once  believed  throughout  all 
Europe."  I  have  heard  it  often  from  good  members 
of  Protestant  churches  who  accepted  it  as  established 
historical  fact,  and  who  had  never  noticed  the  ten 
words  in  which  Macaulay  announced  its  falsity.  Yet 
their  common  sense  would  have  branded  the  story  as 
falsehood  if  a  prejudice  colored  by  many  another 
similar  tale  had  not  hampered  its  operations.  Another 
widely  circulated  myth  that  affects  the  Protestant 
mind  is  the  story  of  the  pope  who  excommunicated  a 
comet.  The  story  originated  very  naturally.  A  great 
comet,  sweeping  into  our  field  of  vision  as  it  made  the 
huge  circuit  of  its  celestial  orbit,  alarmed  the  peoples 
of  Europe,  and  they  had  recourse  to  prayer  for  preser- 
vation from  a  menace  no  human  power  could  resist. 
The  world  hasn't  changed  so  much,  in  so  far  as  fun- 
damental human  nature  is  concerned ;  the  last  visit  of 
the  Halley  comet,  and  the  vagueness  of  scientific 
opinion  with  regard  to  the  possibility  of  a  collision  in 

C83] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  wide  reaches  of  space,  caused  much  the  same  hys- 
teria in  our  own  generation.  The  pope,  by  public 
prayer,  endeavored  to  soothe  the  frightened  people. 
The  comet  flashed  through  the  sky  and  went  its  way ; 
the  hysteria  found  relief  in  laughter.  Now  it  is  quite 
likely  that  at  that  very  time  thousands  of  ignorant 
peasants  in  the  remoter  parts  of  Europe  believed  that 
the  pope  had  excommunicated  the  comet.  The  humor 
of  the  thing  appealed  to  some;  others  took  the  story 
quite  seriously:  it  was  their  mental  tribute  to  the 
power  and  courage  of  the  vicar  of  Christ.  The  popes 
had  hurled  their  curses  at  mighty  kings  and  proud 
emperors:  to  the  mind  of  the  ignorant  serf,  why 
should  he  falter  before  the  flaming  devil  who  domi- 
nated the  sky?  And  so  our  historians  have  gone 
again  for  their  facts,  not  to  the  written  record,  but  to 
the  folk-lore  of  an  ignorant  peasantry.  A  future  gen- 
eration may  laugh  at  us,  as  we  laugh  at  the  genera- 
tions gone  by,  when  historians,  after  reading  the  files 
of  our  newspapers  of  the  spring  of  1910,  write  down 
that  science  predicted  a  collision  of  the  earth  and  the 
comet  and  the  annihilation  of  the  human  race  by  a 
whisk  of  its  radiant  tail ;  and  that  all  the  world  giggled 
at  the  learned  astronomers  on  the  morning  of  the 
nineteenth  of  May  because  those  wonderful  gentle- 
men had  lost  the  tail  of  the  comet  and,  like  little  Bo- 
Peep,  didn't  know  where  to  find  it. 

I  find  some  passages  in  history  that  ring  true  to 
me ;  my  common  sense  accepts  the  evidence  adduced ; 
I  find  analogies  in  the  life  of  the  world  of  to-day,  in  the 
facts  of  common  human  experience.  And  the  man 
for  whom  I  am  writing  this,  the  man  in  the  street,  who 

C84] 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

has  no  more  time  than  have  I — perhaps  even  less — to 
devote  to  original  research,  can  exercise  his  own  rea- 
soning faculties  in  the  same  way.  He  need  not  fear 
that  it  is  presumption  on  his  part  to  question  the  con- 
clusions of  a  great  historian;  a  little  reflection  will 
convince  him  that  there  is  no  perfect  and  complete 
record  of  any  time;  the  historian  has  had  to  fill  up 
gaps,  to  presume  the  relationship  of  isolated  in- 
stances; and  his  presumption,  in  all  probability,  took 
the  form  of  his  preconceptions.  And  lest  philosoph- 
ical authority  be  needed  to  encourage  the  timid,  I  have 
found  such  authority  in  Herbert  Spencer,  who  says: 
"Judging  whether  another  proves  his  position  is  a 
widely  different  thing  from  proving  your  own.  To 
establish  a  general  law  requires  an  extensive  know- 
ledge of  the  phenomena  to  be  generalized;  to  decide 
whether  an  alleged  general  law  has  been  established 
by  the  evidence  assigned  merely  requires  an  adequate 
reasoning  faculty." 

I  have  digressed.  What  I  started  to  say  was 
that  even  those  historians  who  wrote  of  the  Catholic 
Church  with  a  Protestant  or  an  infidel  prejudice,  have 
been  compelled  by  the  very  logic  of  the  results  of  their 
researches  to  set  down  facts  altogether  at  variance 
from  their  conclusions.  How  can  we  believe,  for  ex- 
ample, that  an  institution  so  evil  as  Draper  declares 
the  church  to  be  could  have  been  productive  of  results 
so  remarkably  good  as  those  he  describes?  Evil 
cause  and  good  effect.  The  upas-tree  bearing  the 
apples  of  life.  The  motives  and  deeds  of  the  devil, 
and  the  consequences  we  should  expect  from  the  work 
of  God. 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

And  now  we  come  to  Voltaire  and  find  in  him  con- 
firmation of  the  theory  that  many  of  our  prejudices 
against  the  Catholic  Church  are  in  their  genesis 
purely  political.  I  am  about  to  write  of  the  conflict 
between  the  popes  and  the  German  emperors,  and 
Voltaire  furnishes  me  with  this  introduction : 

"Nobody  knew  what  the  empire  was.  There  were 
no  laws  in  Europe.  Neither  the  right  of  birth  nor  the 
right  of  election  was  acknowledged:  Europe  was  a 
chaos  in  which  the  strongest  raised  themselves  on  the 
ruin  of  the  weak,  to  be  afterward  in  their  turn  over- 
thrown. The  whole  history  of  the  time  is  only  that  of 
some  barbarian  captains,  who  disputed  with  the 
bishops  the  privilege  of  ruling  over  imbecile  serfs. 
There  was  no  longer  an  empire,  either  by  law  or  in 
fact.  The  Romans  who  had  confided  themselves  to 
Charlemagne  by  acclamation  would  not  acknowledge 
bastards — strangers  who  were  scarcely  masters  of  a 
fragment  of  Germany.  It  was  an  odd  sort  of  a  Roman 
Empire.  The  Germanic  body  styled  itself  the  Holy 
Roman  Empire,  whilst  in  reality  it  was  neither  holy, 
nor  Roman,  nor  an  empire.  It  appears  evident  that 
the  great  design  of  Frederick  II  was  to  establish  in 
Italy  the  throne  of  the  new  Caesars,  and  it  is  quite  cer- 
tain, at  least,  that  he  desired  to  reign  over  Italy  with 
unlimited  and  undivided  sway.  This  was  the  hidden 
root  of  all  his  quarrels  with  the  popes:  he  employed  by 
turns  craft  and  violence,  and  the  Holy  See  combated 
him  with  the  same  arms.  The  Guelphs,  those  par- 
tisans of  the  papacy,  but  still  more  the  friends  of  lib- 
erty, always  balanced  the  power  of  the  Ghibellines, 
partisans  of  the  empire.  The  object  of  the  difference 

[86] 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

between  Frederick  and  the  Holy  See  never  was  re- 
ligion." 

The  autocratic  principle  had  taken  from  the  people 
of  the  various  sees  the  right  of  episcopal  selection, 
and  this  right  rulers  exercised  quite  without  regard 
for  the  confirmatory  rights  of  the  popes.  The  viola- 
tion of  the  last-named  right,  upon  which  the  church 
always  insisted,  was  at  first  not  general,  but  it  became 
so  before  the  time  when  Hildebrand,  having  four 
times  put  away  from  him  the  tiara  in  order  to  act  as 
adviser  to  predecessors,  was  at  last  installed  in  the 
chair  of  St.  Peter  as  Gregory  VII.  We  can  imagine 
what  the  result  might  be  with  this  office  in  the  hands 
of  ignorant  political  chiefs,  with  its  dignity  and  its 
power  regarded  as  political  spoil,  with  its  occupant 
dependent  upon  the  favor  of  the  reigning  ruler.  We 
can  understand  the  prominence  of  simony,  the  sale  of 
ecclesiastical  offices,  in  the  criminal  records  of  the  age. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  brutality  and  intellectual 
darkness  of  the  time  had  not  spared  Rome.  The  city 
barons  were  not  less  cruel,  not  less  corrupt,  than  the 
barbarian  captains  who  surrounded  them.  Between 
the  Roman  aristocracy  and  the  clerical  body  there 
was  a  never-ending  feud  which  involved  the  papacy 
because  of  the  fact  that  the  pope  was  the  temporal  as 
well  as  the  spiritual  ruler.  For  more  than  a  century 
upon  which  the  enlightenment  of  to-day  must  look 
with  horror,  the  saints  of  the  church  wept  bitter  tears 
over  scandals  of  Rome.  It  must  not  be  taken  for 
granted  that  all  the  popes  were  bad  in  that  sad  period ; 
many  of  them  vindicated  their  right  to  the  high  office 
by  holiness  of  life.  But  in  history  the  scandals  take  up 

£87] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

far  more  space  than  the  record  of  virtuous  deeds,  and 
the  iniquity  of  a  Benedict  IX  receives  more  atten- 
tion than  the  piety  and  wisdom  of  Victor  II.  The 
church  turned  for  protection  from  the  Roman  chiefs 
to  the  Germanic,  but  the  lust  of  power  was  the  same 
in  the  Germanic  as  in  the  Roman  breast;  the  German 
emperor,  no  less  than  the  Roman  aristocrat,  looked  on 
the  papacy  as  a  means  of  political  advancement.  For 
some  little  time  while  Sylvester  II  sat  in  St.  Peter's 
chair  and  his  pious  protector,  the  German  emperor 
Otto,  held  his  court  in  the  Imperial  City,  there  was 
peace  among  the  Romans  and  some  reflection  of  its 
ancient  splendor  in  the  city  of  the  Caesars;  but  even 
then  the  clergy,  under  the  leadership  of  Hildebrand, 
were  planning  the  freedom  of  the  papacy  from  po- 
litical control  as  the  first  step  in  its  protection  from 
future  scandals. 

It  is  the  boast  of  the  Catholic  Church  that  it  passed 
through  these  troubled  times  with  its  doctrine  uncon- 
taminated.  My  understanding  of  its  contention  is 
that  even  the  most  vicious  of  the  popes  was  restrained 
from  doctrinal  aberration  by  the  divine  essence  of  the 
ecclesiastical  institution;  that  through  corrupt  human 
channels  the  supernatural  stream  flowed  on  untainted, 
just  as  the  pure  moonlight  is  unpolluted  by  the  mire 
on  which  it  rests.  It  is  a  mistake  to  think  it  denies  or 
even  seeks  to  conceal  the  evil  conduct  of  some  of  the 
pontiffs :  I  have  before  me  a  perfectly  frank  history  of 
those  times,  written  by  a  Roman  Catholic  doctor  of 
divinity  and  bearing  the  imprimatur  of  his  church. 

But  the  times  were  coming  to  an  end.  Monks  like 
Peter  Damian,  priests  like  Hildebrand,  the  pious  men 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

of  Christendom — for  even  then  there  were  piety  and 
purity  in  the  body  of  the  church — were  gathering  to- 
gether to  protect  it  against  the  evil  results  of  political 
domination.  The  foes  they  had  to  face  might  well 
daunt  men  of  a  less  lofty  courage  and  purpose.  In 
Rome  was  a  corrupt  aristocracy,  bent  upon  recover- 
ing the  control  of  the  papacy  from  the  German  power, 
not  in  order  that  it  might  be  purified,  but  in  order  that 
it  might  be  made  to  minister  to  their  pleasure  and 
profit.  In  Germany  were  warrior  kings  of  vaulting 
ambition  and  unbridled  passions,  supported  by  a  po- 
litical clergy  who  had  disregarded  the  ancient  canon- 
ical rule  of  celibacy  and  lived  scandalous  lives.  Along 
the  coast  were  the  Saracen  ships  threatening  the 
Italian  towns.  If,  as  conventional  history  asserts,  it 
was  a  political  purpose  that  animated  these  priests, 
strange  was  the  political  wisdom  that  could  foresee  a 
victory  over  a  combination  such  as  this.  The  cunning 
priestcraft  of  pagan  lands  ever  sought  the  support  of 
power;  but  this  amazing  priestcraft  defied  human 
power,  pitting  itself  recklessly  against  a  brutal  em- 
pire, an  intrenched  aristocracy,  a  corrupted  clerical 
force  of  great  numerical  strength;  against  men  of 
power  and  what  they  loved ;  against  not  only  the  po- 
litical strength,  but  the  long-established  evils  that 
had  all  the  force  and  tenacity  of  common  custom; 
against  the  fashion  of  the  day.  Has  the  world  ever 
seen  cunning  like  this?  "Forty  generations  of  states- 
men," says  Macaulay.  What  remarkable  statesman- 
ship! 

The  Roman  chiefs  were  the  first  to  feel  the  rigor  of 
the  reform,  and  they  took  characteristic  measures  to 

[893 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

combat  it.  Stephen  IX,  although  they  had  elected 
him,  had  disappointed  them;  they  had  him  poisoned 
as  he  travelled  in  Tuscany.  Immediately  they  called 
an  election  and  placed  Benedict  X  on  the  papal  throne. 
But  the  clergy  took  no  part  in  the  election;  they  de- 
nounced it  as  illegal  and  in  violation  of  the  oath  the 
Romans  had  taken  when  Stephen  IX  set  out  on  his 
journey,  that  they  would  elect  no  pope  until  Hilde- 
brand  was  among  them,  in  the  event  of  Stephen's 
death,  which  he  seems  to  have  expected.  Aided  by  a 
noble  of  the  Trastevere — Leo,  the  son  of  a  converted 
Jew — they  fled  from  Rome  and  gathered  around 
Hildebrand.  He  at  once  assembled  a  conclave  which 
elected  Nicholas  II,  who  was  installed  in  St.  Peter's 
chair  on  January  24,  1059;  Benedict  X  having  de- 
parted hurriedly  upon  the  approach  of  Leo's  men-at- 
arms.  Hildebrand  overcame  the  objection  of  the 
German  emperor  to  the  election  of  Nicholas,  and 
when  the  Romans  rebelled  and  again  elevated  Bene- 
dict, he  called  upon  the  Normans  who  were  establish- 
ing themselves  on  the  coast,  and  with  the  help  of 
those  remarkable  warriors  subdued  the  city  aristoc- 
racy and  ejected  the  pretender  to  the  pontificate. 
Then  came  that  great  council  at  which  Hildebrand 
freed  the  church.  It  made  the  rule  that  the  right  of 
the  election  of  the  pope  should  lie  in  the  hands  of  the 
cardinal  bishops. 

Hildebrand  knew  very  well  what  that  meant.  He 
knew  the  interests  that  would  be  antagonized,  and 
against  those  interests  he  sought  to  protect  the 
church.  He  found  his  weapons  for  the  material  con- 
flict in  the  Norman  settlements  of  the  south.  In 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

those  formidable  warriors  he  found  the  simplicity  and 
devotion  he  needed,  and  he  took  advantage  of  the 
feudal  law  of  the  times  to  make  them  vassals  of  the 
church.  In  the  Council  of  Melfi,  on  August  23,  1059, 
the  church  bestowed  on  the  Norman  chiefs,  Richard 
and  Robert  Guiscard,  the  principality  of  Capua  and 
the  duchy  of  Apuleia  and  Calabria,  and  in  return  the 
two  captains  took  the  oath  of  military  service. 

Throughout  the  years  that  followed  the  German 
emperors  exercised  the  powers  of  confirmation  which 
the  council  had  reserved  to  them,  and  when,  in  1073, 
the  clergy  insisted  upon  elevating  to  the  pontificate 
the  son  of  the  Tuscan  carpenter  who  had  already  done 
so  much  toward  its  regeneration,  it  is  a  strange  letter 
that  Hildebrand  sends  to  the  emperor  Henry  IV.  He 
hopes  his  election  will  be  set  aside,  and  he  candidly  in- 
forms the  emperor  that  if  chosen  as  pope  he  will  call 
him  to  account  for  the  scandal  of  his  conduct.  Strange 
politician  is  this ! 

Once  in  the  papal  chair,  he  "addressed  himself  to 
tear  out  every  vestige  of  simony  and  concubinage 
with  a  remorseless  hand,"  as  Draper  puts  it.  The 
pious  countess  Beatrice  and  her  daughter  Matilda 
ruled  Tuscany,  and  Gregory  wrote  to  them,  urging 
them  to  hold  no  communion  with  bishops  who  had 
bought  their  offices.  His  legates  went  into  Germany, 
deposing  bishops  whose  dignities  had  been  purchased 
from  the  emperor.  Henry  sold  the  see  of  Milan  to 
Godfrey,  but  the  stern  pope  put  down  the  king's 
bishop  from  his  seat.  In  Rome  justice  is  done  to  the 
brutal  and  vicious  lords,  and  they  seek  alliance  with 
the  German.  One  of  them,  at  the  instigation  of  the 

£91] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

emperor,  breaks  into  the  Church  of  St.  Mary,  followed 
by  a  band  of  bravos,  on  Christmas  night,  and  the 
pontiff  is  torn  from  the  altar,  wounded,  and  carried  a 
prisoner  to  the  castle  of  the  Cenci.  Throughout  the 
city  the  alarm  runs — sacrilege  has  been  done ;  the  be- 
loved pontiff  is  in  the  hands  of  his  enemies !  Bells  are 
rung  from  the  churches,  the  tradesmen,  the  laborers, 
the  great  population  of  Rome,  throng  the  streets. 
Cencis  finds  a  shrieking  multitude  swirling  around  his 
castle;  his  men-at-arms  are  as  nothing  against  this 
furious  horde ;  they  bring  ladders  and  scale  the  walls ; 
they  put  the  bravos  to  the  blade  and  storm  through 
the  captured  stronghold  until  they  find  the  wounded 
but  undismayed  pope.  The  conspirators  flee  from 
Rome. 

And  now  Henry  gathers  around  him  the  political 
bishops  of  Germany,  and  at  Worms  he  assembles  a 
council  before  whom  he  lays  charges  against  Gregory. 
His  ecclesiastical  henchmen  do  his  will;  they  pass  a 
decree  declaring  the  pope  deposed.  Their  decree  the 
emperor  sends  to  Gregory  with  a  letter  full  of  abuse. 
In  Rome  the  pope  assembles  the  Later  an  Council,  and 
against  the  emperor  he  launches  the  curse  of  the 
church.  The  German  monarch  is  laid  under  an  inter- 
dict :  Christians  are  bound  no  longer  by  their  oath  of 
allegiance  to  him;  no  longer  is  he  king,  but  tyrant, 
and  the  "power  to  bind  and  loose"  has  been  exercised 
to  free  them  from  subjection  to  a  wicked  sovereign. 

And  now  Henry  was  to  learn  how  well  Hildebrand 
had  done  his  work  in  all  the  preceding  years.  The 
priests  of  Gregory  went  throughout  Germany,  pub- 
lishing the  papal  decree.  The  people  shrank  away 

[923 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

from  an  accursed  king,  and  many  of  the  princes  seized 
the  opportunity  to  wreak  private  vengeance  for 
wrongs  long  suffered.  A  council  of  the  electors  was 
held  and  Rudolph  of  Swabia  chosen  in  Henry's  place 
by  the  princes. 

In  terror  of  the  rising  storm,  Henry  sought  a  recon- 
ciliation with  the  possessor  of  so  terrible  a  power.  In 
midwinter  he  crossed  the  Alps  and  sought  out  Greg- 
ory in  Canossa.  But  the  mere  promise  of  peace  would 
not  satisfy  the  pope.  Henry  must  give  evidence  of 
penance  for  his  sins.  There  was  the  snow-covered 
and  wind-swept  portal  of  the  church,  there  should  the 
proud  king  humble  himself,  fasting  and  praying  in  the 
cold,  before  he  might  be  reconciled  with  the  church 
he  had  outraged.  And  when  his  ordeal  was  over  and 
the  aged  pontiff  celebrated  the  mass  at  which  Henry 
was  to  be  admitted  to  communion,  Gregory  lifted  the 
chalice  and  called  upon  God  to  strike  him  dead  as  he 
stood  if  he  were  guilty  of  the  charges  the  monarch 
had  made  against  him,  and  dared  the  guilty  king  to 
do  as  he  had  done.  Henry  shrank  back. 

But  he  had  accomplished  his  purpose,  no  matter 
how  bitter  a  humiliation  it  had  cost  him.  The  inter- 
dict was  lifted,  he  was  free,  his  vassals  would  come 
again  to  his  call.  He  gathered  them  round  him  and 
took  the  field  against  Rudolph,  who  was  wounded  in 
battle  and  died  of  his  wounds.  Henry  soon  felt  him- 
self strong  enough  to  gratify  his  hatred  of  Gregory, 
who  had  never  conferred  upon  him  the  imperial 
crown.  He  summoned  a  council  of  clerical  enemies 
of  the  pope,  and  had  Gilbert,  the  excommunicated 
bishop  of  Ravenna,  proclaimed  as  pope.  With  his 

C933 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

army  he  marched  on  Rome  in  1081.  The  countess 
Matilda  and  Beatrice,  her  mother,  gave  his  troops 
battle,  but  he  managed  to  take  Rome  in  1084.  The 
Roman  aristocrats  made  his  entrance  easy  and  wel- 
comed him  joyfully,  hoping  for  a  return  of  the  old 
times  and  the  regime  of  a  pope  under  whom  licentious 
conduct  and  rapine  would  not  be  severely  punished. 
Gregory,  who  had  solemnly  excommunicated  Henry, 
shut  himself  up  in  the  Castle  of  St.  Angelo.  The  mar- 
tial countess  of  Tuscany,  in  her  efforts  to  relieve  him, 
inflicted  severe  reverses  on  the  imperial  troops  in 
Lombardy,  but  it  remained  for  the  Norman  captain, 
Robert  Guiscard,  to  rescue  the  pontiff  from  the  hands 
of  his  adversaries.  Although  well  advanced  on  a 
career  of  conquest  in  the  Byzantine  dominions,  Guis- 
card never  hesitated  when  he  heard  of  the  pope's 
perilous  situation.  He  hastened  with  all  speed  back  to 
Italy,  and  his  knights  were  soon  sweeping  down  upon 
the  imperial  forces  at  Rome.  Alarmed  at  the  ap- 
proach of  this  terrible  antagonist,  Henry  withdrew  his 
troops ;  but  the  Roman  aristocrats  could  not  willingly 
relinquish  their  hope  of  a  period  of  license,  and  they 
denied  the  Normans  entry  to  the  city.  Robert 
stormed  the  walls  and  put  them  to  the  sword.  Fear- 
ing to  leave  the  pope  in  Rome,  he  took  him  with  him 
to  the  abbey  of  Monte  Cassino,  and  later  to  Salerno. 
In  that  city,  in  1088,  died  this  strange  politician)  whose 
last  words  were :  "I  have  loved  justice  and  hated  wick- 
edness, and  therefore  I  die  in  exile."  .  Statesman? 
Draper  calls  the  works  of  Machiavelli  "the  purest  ex- 
ample we  possess  of  physical  statesmanship."  Count 
de  Maistre  describes  them  as  a  treatise  on  "How  shall 

C943 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

assassins  outwit  one  another?"  Then  Gregory's 
statesmanship  was  not  physical  statesmanship.  "I 
have  loved  justice  and  hated  wickedness":  there  is 
nothing  like  that  in  Machiavelli. 

Again  I  look  at  a  period  of  church  history  and  see 
only  what  is  there  to  be  seen.  It  isn't  design,  it  isn't 
cunning,  it  isn't  priestcraft.  It  is  simply  this :  Hilde- 
brand's  endeavors  in  behalf  of  a  free  and  pure  Chris- 
tianity ran  counter  to  the  pleasure  of  Henry,  who 
wished  to  sell  bishoprics,  and,  with  a  brutal  and  ig- 
norant autocrat's  fierce  anger  at  anything  that  dared 
to  call  him  to  account  for  sins  that  shocked  the  world, 
he  tried  to  beat  down  what  he  could  not  control. 

Rapidly  I  shall  pass  over  the  events  of  the  period 
intervening  between  the  reign  of  Henry  IV  and  the 
time  of  that  Frederick  of  whom  Voltaire  speaks.  In 
that  period  succeeding  emperors  had  attacked  the 
papacy  in  an  effort  to  make  the  church  political.  In 
that  period  a  Henry  had  helped  the  Duke  of  Austria 
rob  and  imprison  the  returning  crusader,  Richard  the 
Lion-hearted,  and  had  been  called  to  account  by  the 
pope,  under  whose  protection  were  all  crusaders  on 
the  roads  to  and  from  the  Holy  Land.  In  that  period 
Henry  VI  had  fought  for  the  ancient  power  of  the 
emperors  over  the  bishoprics  and  had  lost,  dying 
reconciled  to  the  church.  In  that  period  Frederick 
Barbarossa  had  boasted,  "I  am  the  lord  of  the  world," 
and  "The  will  of  the  ruler  is  law,"  only  to  admit,  after 
a  short  conflict,  that  there  was  a  higher  law  and  to 
spend  the  remainder  of  his  glorious  reign  in  peace 
with  the  church. 

And  now  came  the  second  relentless  foe  of  the 

C95H 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

popes,  the  able,  crafty,  infidel  Lord  of  the  Sicilies,  who 
dreamed  of  an  empire  of  vast  extent  subject  to  his  des- 
potic sceptre  alone,  who  had  as  little  patience  with  op- 
position as  Napoleon  was  to  exhibit  in  later  times, 
and,  like  Napoleon,  saw  in  the  papacy  little  more  than 
an  instrument  to  be  used  to  cement  his  power.  Fred- 
erick II  was  not,  like  many  of  his  predecessors,  a  mere 
ignorant  freebooter  with  an  imperial  title.  Little  of 
his  time  was  spent  in  Germany ;  his  youth  and  most 
of  his  manhood  he  passed  in  the  more  enlightened 
cities  of  Italy.  The  son  of  Henry  VI,  he  had  been 
protected  after  his  father's  death  by  the  very  power 
he  was  soon  to  assail.  As  an  orphan  child  he  had 
been  safeguarded  from  the  Emperor  Otto  by  Pope  In- 
nocent III.  He  was  instructed  in  all  the  arts  and  the 
science  of  the  day.  Heir  to  the  kingdom  of  Sicily,  he 
passed  his  youth  in  conversation  with  learned  men. 
As  he  grew  into  manhood  he  showed  a  predilection  for 
Mohammedan  associates  and  Jewish  and  Moslem 
instructors.  "To  his  many  other  accomplishments," 
Draper  says,  "he  added  the  speaking  of  Arabic  as 
fluently  as  a  Saracen.  He  delighted  in  the  society  of 
Mohammedan  ladies,  who  thronged  his  court.  His 
enemies  asserted  that  his  chastity  was  not  improved 
by  association  with  these  miscreant  beauties.  The 
Jewish  and  Mohammedan  physicians  and  philoso- 
phers taught  him  to  sneer  at  the  pretensions  of  the 
church.  From  such  ridicule  it  is  but  a  short  step  to 
the  breaking  off  of  authority.  At  this  time  the  Span- 
ish Mohammedans  had  become  widely  affected  with 
irreligion;  their  greatest  philosophers  were  infidel  in 
their  own  infidelity." 

C96] 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

This  was  not  an  influence  likely  to  incline  the  policy 
of  Henry  in  accord  with  the  spirit  of  the  militant 
Christendom  of  the  day.  For  the  crusades  had  been 
preached — by  Peter  the  Hermit  and  Walter  the 
Penniless  Europe  had  been  roused  to  rescue  the  tomb 
of  the  Saviour  from  the  hand  of  the  unbeliever.  Urban 
II  and  Innocent  III  had,  by  virtue  of  their  office,  taken 
the  lead  in  the  Christian  movement.  Frederick  knew 
well  the  spirit  of  the  time,  and,  while  not  in  sympathy 
with  it,  did  not  hesitate  to  use  it.  He  was  well  aware 
that  no  one  not  believed  to  be  heart  and  soul  in  the 
project  of  the  reclamation  of  the  Holy  Land  could  at- 
tain to  the  imperial  dignity,  and  he  was  prodigal  of 
promises.  His  first  promise  was  to  give  the  kingdom 
of  Sicily  to  his  son  as  a  kingdom  distinct  from  Ger- 
many, for  Sicily  was  a  fief  of  the  church  and  its  po- 
litical union  with  Germany  would  complicate  the 
relationships  of  the  Pontifical  State.  He  took  up  the 
Cross,  and  declared  himself  among  the  most  enthu- 
siastic of  the  soldiers  of  the  faith.  His  tardiness  in 
setting  forth  against  the  infidel  and  in  keeping  his 
promise  with  regard  to  the  Sicilian  succession  after 
he  had  received  the  German  monarchical  crown,  em- 
bittered the  last  days  of  Innocent  III,  his  guardian; 
but  he  made  such  professions  of  future  conduct  to 
Honor ius  III,  and  was  so  emphatic  in  his  promise  to 
begin  a  campaign  against  the  paynim  immediately, 
that  that  pontiff  gave  him  the  imperial  crown  at  Rome 
on  November  22, 1220. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  the  law  of  the  time 
made  the  emperor,  primarily,  the  soldier  of  the 
church.  That  was  the  law  of  the  creation  of  the  West- 

C97] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

ern  Empire.  The  knighthood  of  Europe  looked  to  the 
pope  to  give  it  in  the  emperor  a  leader  in  the  Holy 
War.  Damietta,  for  which  the  Christians  had  paid  a 
bitter  price  in  blood,  was  taken  from  them  in  1219, 
and  upon  its  fall  there  came  from  the  masters  of  the 
crusading  orders  who  held  the  Christian  frontier,  and 
from  the  patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  letters  of  reproach 
to  the  pope  for  his  failure  to  send  the  emperor  to  their 
relief.  Honorius,  grieved  by  the  loss  to  the  cause, 
wrote  to  Frederick  in  1221  reminding  the  emperor  of 
his  promises.  Frederick,  who  was  very  busy  extend- 
ing his  own  dominions,  even  to  the  prejudice  of  the 
States  of  the  Church,  replied  with  fresh  promises. 
His  marriage  to  Yolande  de  Lusignan,  daughter  of 
the  King  of  Jerusalem,  gave  the  pope  a  fleeting  hope, 
but  Frederick  extinguished  it  by  applying  to  his 
father-in-law  to  get  him  excused  from  crusade  service 
until  he  had  subdued  the  Lombards.  At  last  the  pope 
sent  to  Frederick  two  cardinals  who  were  directed  to 
bring  the  matter  to  an  issue,  and  at  San  Germano  in 
July,  1225,  Frederick  signed  a  solemn  undertaking  to 
embark  in  the  crusade  within  two  years;  swearing 
that  if  he  fulfilled  not  his  promise  he  should  be  driven 
from  the  communion  of  the  church,  and  that  his  per- 
son and  his  dominions  should,  by  a  just  judgment,  be 
at  the  disposition  of  the  pope. 

Honorius  died  in  1227,  and  Gregory  IX  succeeded 
him  in  St.  Peter's  chair.  It  is  quite  likely  that  the  new 
pope  entertained  little  hope  of  any  real  activity  on 
Frederick's  part,  although  the  emperor  seemed  to 
yield  at  last  to  the  threat  of  excommunication  and 
marched  toward  southern  Italy.  The  vigorous  Greg- 

[98] 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

ory  had  assembled  a  fine  army  of  crusaders,  and  it 
looked  as  if  at  last  the  hopes  of  Christendom  might  be 
realized.  But  Frederick  had  no  real  design  of  attack- 
ing his  Mohammedan  friends;  three  days  after  his 
departure  he  was  back  again  in  Italy,  to  the  bitter  dis- 
appointment of  the  pope.  The  splendid  body  of  sol- 
diery melted  away  and  Frederick  retired  to  take  the 
baths  at  Pozzuoli. 

The  period  of  probation  fixed  by  Frederick  himself 
came  to  a  close,  and  the  pope  pronounced  his  excom- 
munication in  September,  1227.  Frederick  scoffed  at 
the  action  of  the  pope,  and  published  attacks  upon  the 
character  of  Gregory.  In  all  the  empire  he  played  the 
freebooter,  robbing  the  crusading  orders,  and  main- 
taining his  dissolute  court  crowded  with  Saracen 
women  and  infidel  preachers.  In  1228  Gregory  held  a 
synod  in  Rome  and  repeated  the  excommunication. 
The  adherents  of  Frederick  among  the  Roman  aris- 
tocracy raised  a  revolt  in  the  city  and  drove  the  pope 
from  his  palace.  Meanwhile  Frederick  at  last  started 
for  the  Holy  Land,  on  what  he  was  pleased  to  call  his 
crusade. 

It  was  an  odd  crusade.  "The  Christian  camp," 
Draper  declares,  "was  thronged  with  infidel  dele- 
gates: some  came  to  discuss  philosophical  questions, 
some  were  bearers  of  presents.  Elephants  and  a  bevy 
of  dancing  girls  were  courteously  sent  by  the  sultan 
to  his  friend,  who,  it  is  said,  was  not  insensible  to  the 
witcheries  of  these  Oriental  beauties.  He  wore  a 
Saracen  dress.  In  his  privacy  he  did  not  hesitate  to 
say,  'I  came  not  here  to  deliver  the  Holy  City,  but  to 
maintain  my  estimation  among  the  Franks.' ' 

C993 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Indeed,  he  did  more  than  that.  In  the  Moham- 
medan atmosphere  he  frankly  explained  that  the  pope 
could  not  have  done  other  than  excommunicate  him, 
unless  he  desired  to  lay  himself  open  to  the  mockery 
and  revilings  of  the  Christian  peoples.  In  order  to 
show  his  love  for  the  Sultan  of  Babylon,  he  presented 
him  with  the  consecrated  sword  he  had  taken  from 
the  altar  of  St.  Peter.  No  passage  of  arms  occurred 
in  this  remarkable  expedition ;  not  a  drop  of  blood  was 
spent,  not  a  lance  splintered  save  in  courtesy.  The 
sultan  was  willing  the  emperor,  his  good  friend, 
should  have  Jerusalem,  the  elephants,  the  dancing 
girls — anything  his  heart  might  desire;  and  the  Chris- 
tian champion,  not  to  be  outdone  in  generosity,  turned 
the  temple  of  Solomon  over  to  the  Mohammedan  cus- 
tody, and  bound  himself  by  oath  to  resist  any  attack 
which  might  be  made  upon  the  sultan  by  Christian 
swords.  It  was  a  treaty  worthy  of  the  enlightened 
monarch  under  whose  protection,  if  not  from  whose 
hand,  the  book  Di  Tribus  Impostoribus  was  given  to 
the  world. 

Meanwhile,  Duke  Rainaldo,  Frederick's  loyal  vas- 
sal, was  invading  the  Papal  States,  and  was  checked 
only  by  the  arms  of  John  of  Brienne,  one  of  the  vassals 
of  the  church.  This  attack — that  of  a  vassal  on  his 
sovereign — led  the  pope  to  absolve  the  subjects  of 
Frederick  in  Sicily  from  their  allegiance. 

After  his  return  to  Italy,  Frederick  found  it  conve- 
nient to  be  reconciled  to  the  church,  and  he  made 
promises  of  reform  and  restitution  at  San  Germano 
and  visited  Gregory  at  Anagni.  His  letters  at  that 
time  are  full  of  his  admiration  for  the  amiability  and 


GREGORY  THE  "POLITICIAN" 

goodness  of  the  pontiff.  But  the  freebooter  instinct 
and  the  spirit  of  domination  were  too  strong  in  the 
Sicilian;  he  began  to  rob  the  Templars  and  the  Hos- 
pitallers who  were  not  among  his  supporters.  The 
pope  reproached  him,  and  he  again  sought  the  latter's 
help  when  his  son  Henry,  who  had  been  crowned  king 
of  Germany,  revolted  against  him.  Henry  deposed 
and  in  prison,  however,  he  was  free  once  more,  and  his 
Saracens  robbed  churches  while  he  tyrannized  over 
Sicily  and  oppressed  the  Lombards.  Travellers  in  his 
dominions  were  not  safe;  they  were  taken  by  his  Mos- 
lem swordsmen,  thrown  into  prison,  and  held  for 
ransom.  These  infidel  warriors  were  allowed  free 
pillage  of  a  church  at  Lucera.  He  had  always  jeered 
at  the  popes,  laughing  at  the  religious  ceremonies,  and 
meriting  the  reproach  of  Gregory,  "Out  of  the  sea  a 
beast  is  risen  whose  name  is  written  all  over,  'Blas- 
phemy.' '  In  1239,  when  he  was  at  the  height  of  his 
power,  Gregory  renewed  the  excommunication. 

Judged  by  any  system  of  politics  the  human  world 
has  ever  known,  what  amazing  politicians  are  these  of 
the  church?  Never  is  it  the  weak  and  the  humble  they 
strike  with  the  spiritual  sword ;  always  the  strong  and 
the  proud.  A  veritable  hurricane  of  fire  Gregory  in- 
voked by  his  sentence.  Frederick  rages  with  his  Sara- 
cens up  and  down  Italy.  He  writes  to  his  son  that, 
despite  the  fair  offers  of  the  pope,  he  will  bring  mat- 
ters to  issue  with  the  sword,  will  humble  the  high 
priest  and  so  treat  him  that  never  again  will  he  dare 
open  his  mouth  against  the  emperor.  A  fugitive  from 
the  infidel  warriors  of  the  Christian  emperor,  the  aged 
and  troubled  Gregory  dies  at  last  in  1241,  and  in 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

coarse  jest  the  enlightened  monarch  informs  Europe 
of  the  fact.  Another  of  the  papal  politicians  of  con- 
ventional history  has  obtained  his  reward:  he  has 
peace. 

But  still  Frederick  ravages  the  Estates  of  the 
Church,  still  he  clings  to  the  cardinals  he  has  taken 
prisoners  from  the  highroads  of  the  empire,  until  the 
French  king's  threats  cause  him  to  release  those  who 
were  subject  to  that  monarch,  and  Celestine  IV's 
short  pontificate  is  followed  by  the  reign  of  Pope  In- 
nocent IV.  Innocent  endeavored  to  bring  about 
peace,  but  the  emperor  declared  that  he  must  have 
forgiveness  of  his  sins  before  he  would  show  proof  of 
repentance,  that  he  would  hold  his  ecclesiastical  cap- 
tives until  he  received  absolution.  So  Innocent  was 
compelled  to  give  up  hope  and  to  flee  from  Rome  and 
into  France ;  and  there,  at  the  Council  of  Lyons,  Fred- 
erick was  tried  on  charges  of  heresy,  sacrilege,  im- 
morality, perjury,  and  blasphemy.  The  anathema  of 
the  church  was  hurled  at  him  by  those  fugitive  but 
fearless  priests.  They  inverted  the  torches,  quenched 
the  burning  flax.  "So  may  he  be  extinguished !"  they 
said.  And  after  recounting  his  deeds,  Draper  says, 
"Forsaken  and  alone,  he  died." 


CHAPTER  VI 

TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

THE  law  of  nations  that  gave  the  pope  the  right 
to  protect  the  person  and  property  of  a  crusa- 
der in  the  kingdom  of  any  Christian  prince 
whatsoever  was  thoroughly  understood  by  the 
princes  of  the  middle  ages,  and  none  made  protest 
against  it,  although  some  violated  it.  It  grew  out  of 
the  necessities  of  the  time.  If  there  was  to  be  any 
united  action  of  Christian  warriors  against  the  infidel 
— and  political  wisdom  no  less  than  religious  zeal 
pointed  out  the  desirability  of  such  Christian  concert 
— some  warder  there  must  be  to  protect  the  holdings 
of  the  absent  lord.  They  didn't  trust  their  neighbors 
much  in  that  freebooter  age.  They  did  trust  the  pope. 
Knightly  honor  was  a  fine,  high-sounding  thing,  but 
papal  justice  was  considered  a  safer  dependence. 
Thus  the  papacy  became  the  great  court  of  equity  of 
Christendom,  to  which  the  injured  turned  naturally 
and  promptly  for  redress.  Its  competence  was  never 
questioned  then,  although  its  decrees  might  be  evaded 
and  at  times  disobeyed. 

It  was  by  no  means  a  light  or  a  safe  function  to  ex- 
ercise, this  of  bending  to  justice  the  proud  and  un- 
bridled monarchs  of  young  Europe.  The  naked  hand 
that  was  stretched  forth  to  take  the  loot  from  the 
iron-gloved  fist  of  a  robber  prince,  took  the  chance  of 
being  crushed.  The  priest,  who  wore  but  the  frail 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

vestments  of  his  office,  ran  the  risk  of  being  bruised 
among  the  jostling  warriors  in  their  harness  of  steel. 
Yet  the  courage  of  that  great  court  seems  to  have  sus- 
tained it  always.  Time  and  again  popes  rushed  on 
what  seemed  like  certain  destruction,  leaving  the  issue 
to  God.  The  annals  are  full  of  their  expressions  of 
human  despair  not  for  themselves,  but  for  the  church, 
and  yet  there  must  have  been  underneath  that  despair 
a  faith  in  their  cause  that  was  sublime ;  for  in  the  face 
of  the  calamities  their  human  vision  foresaw,  they 
pressed  on  to  the  end  in  the  course  they  had  adopted. 

If  it  was  priestcraft,  it  was  a  craft  such  as  no  priest- 
hood elsewhere  has  ever  exhibited.  If  it  was  political 
wisdom,  it  transcended  the  wisdom  of  human  poli- 
ticians. 

It  was  from  the  exercise  of  his  judicial  function  in 
the  case  of  Richard  of  England  that  Pope  Celestine 
turned  to  admonish  the  powerful  warrior  Philip  Au- 
gustus, crusader  and  Christian  king  of  France.  A 
man  just  humanly  wise  would  not  have  sought  this 
additional  trouble,  for  Celestine  had  difficulties 
enough.  Richard — that  same  Richard  who  is  the  idol 
of  English  chivalry,  the  Lion-heart  of  romance — was 
taken  a  prisoner  on  his  way  home  from  Palestine  by 
Leopold,  duke  of  Austria,  who  held  him  fof  ransom. 
Henry,  the  German  emperor,  was  implicated  in  this 
bit  of  brigandage,  and  the  wife  of  Richard  appealed  to 
the  pope  against  both  of  them.  Immediately  the  pope 
demanded  from  the  duke  and  the  emperor  the  release 
of  the  royal  crusader.  Leopold  insisted  on  his  ran- 
som, and  was  excommunicated.  Richard,  free  now, 
appealed  to  the  pope  to  have  the  money  restored  to 

[104  ] 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

him,  and  the  pope  again  summoned  to  the  bar  of  jus- 
tice the  great  emperor. 

While  this  controversy  was  on,  and  the  pope  was 
deep  in  the  work  of  enforcing  justice,  Philip  Augustus 
of  France  fell  in  love  with  a  beautiful  girl  who  is 
known  in  history  as  Agnes  of  Meran.  There  was  an 
obstacle  in  the  path  of  his  heart's  desire :  he  had  a  liv- 
ing wife.  Some  time  before  he  had  married  the  sister 
of  King  Canute  II  of  Denmark,  Ingeburge,  a  fair, 
high-spirited,  and  virtuous  princess.  Ingeburge  was 
the  fifth  cousin  of  Isabella,  the  first  wife  of  Philip,  and 
this  relationship  served  for  a  pretext  upon  which  a 
synod  of  political  bishops  granted  the  king  a  divorce. 
Ingeburge's  angry  protest  resulted  in  her  imprison- 
ment, and  she  laid  her  complaint  before  the  pope 
through  the  ambassadors  of  her  brother,  the  Danish 
monarch. 

Celestine,  as  a  preliminary,  set  aside  the  decree  of 
the  Synod  of  Compiegne  and  sent  his  own  legates  to 
France  to  examine  into  the  merits  of  the  king's  case. 
At  the  same  time  he  warned  Philip  against  marrying 
again,  but  his  admonition  the  king  disregarded;  his 
nuptials  with  the  fair  Agnes  were  solemnized,  and 
Ingeburge  was  imprisoned  and  treated  with  greater 
harshness  than  before. 

Celestine  died,  and  Innocent  III  ascended  to  the 
throne  of  the  popes.  In  its  order  there  came  before 
Innocent  this  case  of  the  King  of  France,  and  in  Sep- 
tember of  the  year  1198  the  pope  sent  a  letter  to  the 
king  by  the  hand  of  Cardinal  Petrus.  In  this  letter 
the  pope  protests  the  reluctance  with  which  he  takes 
any  action  against  France,  but  declares  that  his  stern 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

duty  obliges  him  to  take  all  means  to  turn  Philip  from 
the  path  of  sin,  particularly  as  his  example  is  encour- 
aging lesser  princes  to  break  their  marriage  vows. 
Philip  remained  obdurate,  and  Petrus,  in  pursuance 
of  his  commission,  convoked  the  Council  of  Dijon, 
where  was  discussed  the  interdict  under  which  it  was 
proposed  to  lay  France.  The  king  appeared  before 
the  council  and  pleaded  for  time  for  reflection,  and  it 
was  granted  to  him.  But  Philip  could  not  bear  the 
separation  from  Agnes,  and  at  length  Petrus  sum- 
moned the  Council  of  Vienne  and  pronounced  the  in- 
terdict, in  the  name  of  the  pope,  on  January  14,  1200. 

The  anger  of  the  king  was  raging.  He  cursed  the 
pope ;  he  declared  he  would  become  a  Mohammedan ; 
he  banished  the  bishops  who  had  attended  the  council, 
and  laid  a  heavy  hand  on  the  priests  in  whose  silent 
churches  no  mass  was  said. 

But  the  pope  remained  firm;  the  land  lay  under  the 
interdict;  the  priests  of  the  church  gave  no  sacrament; 
and  the  king's  anger  gave  place  to  distress.  He  as- 
sured the  pope  of  his  submission,  and  Innocent  sent  a 
kinsman  of  the  monarch  to  France  to  lift  the  inter- 
dict. The  churches  were  opened,  the  mass  was 
celebrated,  all  the  functions  of  religion  were  again 
exercised,  to  the  great  joy  of  the  people.  For  seven 
months  the  pall  had  rested  on  France. 

The  pope  made  arrangements  for  the  Synod  of  Sois- 
sons,  and  bade  Ingeburge  and  her  brother  forward 
their  witnesses.  The  council  convened,  and  the  case 
came  for  trial  before  it.  But  Philip  anticipated  the 
verdict;  he  admitted  the  claim  of  Ingeburge,  and 
promised  to  restore  her  to  her  proper  place  as  queen. 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

He  complained  bitterly  to  Pope  Innocent,  however, 
and  this  was  Innocent's  reply :  that  he  could  not  de- 
viate from  the  right  path  and  offend  the  Heavenly 
King  for  the  sake  of  an  earthly  one.  Still  Philip  sought 
for  a  long  period  to  have  the  divorce  case  reopened; 
even  after  the  death  of  Agnes  he  could  not  forgive  her 
rival.  The  pope  did  declare  the  two  children  of  Agnes 
legitimate,  on  the  ground  that  she  had  married  Philip 
in  good  faith  after  the  publication  of  the  decree  of  the 
Synod  of  Compiegne;  but  in  1212  he  wrote  to  Philip 
saying  that  the  divorce  the  monarch  sought  could  not 
be  granted,  and  urging  the  king  to  cease  his  impor- 
tunities. Philip  then  took  Ingeburge  into  his  palace, 
and  his  will,  which  was  published  after  his  death,  is 
full  of  praise  of  her  virtue  and  devotion. 

This  is  an  incident  in  history  which  Professor 
Draper  calls  an  interference  with  the  civil  affairs  of 
France  upon  the  "pretext"  of  composing  a  matrimo- 
nial difficulty.  Before  passing  on  from  this  to  the 
greater  struggle  of  a  century  later,  from  Philip  the 
Great  to  Philip  the  Fair,  let  us  give  sufficient  consid- 
eration to  one  phase  of  it.  When  the  king  wanted  his 
marriage  annulled,  he  appealed  to  the  ecclesiastical 
court.  It  was  Philip  who  brought  the  matter  before 
the  church ;  it  was  Philip  who  assembled  the  Synod  of 
Compiegne;  the  initiative  was  all  with  Philip.  If  he 
was  angered  at  the  determination  of  the  judge,  he  was 
no  more  than  has  been  many  another  unsuccessful 
litigant. 

I  always  think  the  story  of  the  great  battle  between 
Philip  the  Fair  and  Pope  Boniface  VIII  should  be 
read  backward :  that  the  conduct  of  the  king  cannot  be 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

well  understood  if  we  do  not  at  the  outset  enlighten 
our  understanding  with  what  followed  the  death  of 
Boniface.  The  reader  of  history  will  recall  that  within 
a  year  of  the  death  of  this  pope  a  French  pope  as- 
cended the  throne  of  St.  Peter  and  transferred  his 
residence  from  Rome  to  Avignon  in  France,  and  that 
for  seventy  years  thereafter  Avignon  was  the  seat  of 
the  papacy.  It  is  a  period  known  in  the  history  of  the 
church  as  the  "Seventy  Years'  Captivity."  A  passion 
for  a  fair  face  and  an  imperious  impatience  of  check 
and  bridle  are  at  the  base  of  the  controversy  of  Philip 
Augustus  with  the  church,  but  it  is  a  different  matter 
with  Philip  the  Fair.  Policy  moves  him;  a  cold  and 
calculating  political  design,  shrewdly  composed  by 
crafty  lawyers,  holds  his  course  to  its  prescription 
throughout.  At  the  end  of  that  design  was  the  sub- 
jugation of  the  papacy,  its  administration  under 
French  influence  and  for  the  benefit  of  the  French 
monarch.  It  was  a  lawyers'  battle,  for  if  Flotte  and 
de  Nogaret,  the  king's  advisers,  were  bold  and  skil- 
ful, their  opponent  was  himself  a  master  jurist.  Bene- 
detto Gaetani,  who  became  Pope  Boniface  VIII,  had 
been  educated  in  the  famous  University  of  Paris,  and 
had  mastered  canon  law  at  Bologna.  Prior  to  his 
elevation  to  the  supreme  office  he  had  been  an  active 
servant  of  the  church  in  many  lands.  He  had  visited 
England  and  Germany,  and  in  1290,  when  Philip  the 
Fair  was  a  young  man,  Cardinal  Gaetani  was  papal 
legate  in  France.  In  July,  1294,  Celestine  V  was 
elected  pope.  He  was  a  pious  hermit,  eighty  years 
old,  and  he  soon  found  that  the  burdens  of  the  high 
office  were  beyond  his  strength.  In  December  he 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

voluntarily  took  the  heavy  triple  crown  from  his  own 
brows  and  laid  it  down.  His  abdication  was  followed 
by  the  election  of  Cardinal  Gaetani.  It  was  upon  this 
point  that  the  lawyers  of  Philip's  court  were  to  seize 
later. 

Boniface  had  the  same  great  ambition  that  had  ani- 
mated his  predecessors :  he  hoped  fervently  for  a  suc- 
cessful crusade.  To  that  end  he  shaped  all  his  efforts : 
he  busied  himself  in  preparation;  he  planned  the  or- 
ganization of  a  mighty  Christian  host;  he  gathered 
gold  for  the  war-chest  of  the  faithful.  As  this  subject 
of  the  collection  of  treasure  furnishes  one  of  the 
points  of  dispute  with  Philip,  and  as  the  impression 
one  gets  from  conventional  history  is  that  the  greed 
of  the  papacy  drained  Europe  of  its  wealth,  it  is  well 
to  devote  a  thought  to  it.  To  read  the  common  his- 
tories is  to  acquire  the  belief  that  every  pope  desired 
to  enrich  himself  and  his  relatives,  and  to  that  end  he 
laid  heavy  taxes  on  all  the  Christian  world.  It  is  only 
by  accident  that  the  thought  of  another  use  for  all  the 
funds  accumulated  by  the  church  may  be  stirred  by 
reading  of  the  beggar  relieved  at  the  monastery  gate, 
of  the  great  hospitals  erected  for  the  relief  of  the  poor 
and  the  afflicted,  of  the  schools  and  institutions  of 
learning,  of  the  mighty  efforts  put  forth  for  the  recla- 
mation of  the  Holy  Land.  Ranke  gives  shape  to  the 
thought  when  he  is  discussing  papal  finances  in  the 
fifteenth  century. 

"There  has  doubtless  been  justice,"  he  says,  "in  the 
complaints  raised  against  the  exactions  of  Rome  dur- 
ing the  fifteenth  century ;  but  it  is  true  also  that  of  the 
proceeds  a  small  part  only  passed  into  the  hands  of  the 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

popes.  Pius  II  enjoyed  the  obedience  of  all  Europe, 
yet  he  once  suffered  so  extreme  a  dearth  of  money 
that  he  was  forced  to  restrict  himself  and  his  house- 
hold to  one  meal  a  day." 

Boniface  found  the  political  condition  of  Europe 
anything  but  favorable  to  his  plans  with  regard  to  the 
East.  There  was  war  everywhere;  the  greed  and 
jealousy  of  the  Christian  monarchs  filled  the  whole 
land  with  outrage  and  battle.  The  Estates  of  the 
Church  were  used  by  the  monarchs  to  furnish  their 
war-chests,  and,  following  the  example  of  their  sover- 
eigns, the  nobility  entered  with  enthusiasm  into  the 
congenial  labor  of  pillaging  churches  and  monas- 
teries. The  ambition  of  Philip  the  Fair  alarmed  Ed- 
ward I  of  England  and  King  Adolphus  of  Germany, 
who  joined  their  forces  and  did  battle  against  France. 
It  was  to  compose  these  difficulties  that  the  pope  ad- 
dressed himself,  and  he  had  an  obvious  and  legitimate 
object  in  view — the  pacification  of  Christendom  and 
the  proposed  war  on  the  infidels.  He  succeeded  at 
last  in  persuading  the  Englishman  and  the  German  to 
accept  his  mediation,  but  while  negotiations  were  in 
progress  Philip  again  set  the  torch  to  the  thatch  by 
violently  taking  prisoners  the  Count  of  Flanders  and 
his  wife  and  daughter,  the  last  named  the  betrothed  of 
the  English  king.  At  the  same  time  he  made  an  al- 
liance with  the  Scottish  monarch  and  again  assailed 
England. 

Meanwhile  from  all  the  war-swept  lands,  but  par- 
ticularly from  France,  arose  the  complaints  of  the 
ecclesiastical  authorities  with  regard  to  the  heavy  tax 
laid  upon  them  by  the  kings.  In  France  the  raising  of 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

funds  from  the  churches  had  been  turned  over  to 
royal  officers,  who  did  not  neglect  the  opportunity  of 
lining  their  own  pockets  with  the  spoil  of  the  church. 
These  complaints  reached  Boniface  about  the  same 
time  that  the  Count  of  Flanders  appealed  to  him 
against  the  forcible  detention  of  his  daughter  in  the 
hands  of  the  French  king.  Boniface  sent  the  Bishop 
of  Mieux  to  investigate,  and  then,  after  a  consultation 
with  the  cardinals,  issued  the  bull  known  as  Clericis 
laicos.  That  was  in  1296,  and  the  bull  prohibited,  on 
pain  of  excommunication,  the  taxation  of  ecclesias- 
tical property  without  the  consent  of  the  pope.  If 
such  a  prohibition  strikes  us  as  odd,  we  should  re- 
member that  we  live  in  the  twentieth  century,  and 
that  this  was  in  the  thirteenth;  that  the  recognized 
common  law  is  not  now  what  it  then  was;  and  even 
to-day  no  nation  taxes  the  property  of  another  nation. 

Philip  did  not  question  the  legality  of  that  bull,  but 
he  took  measures  of  reprisal.  He  uttered  a  decree  for- 
bidding foreigners  to  engage  in  commerce  in  France 
and  prohibiting  the  exportation  of  treasure.  This 
prohibition  was  a  blow  at  the  donations  for  the  cru- 
sades. 

The  bull  Ineffabilis,  which  the  pope  sent  to  Philip 
on  September  25,  1296,  declared  that  his  former  pro- 
nouncement was  but  the  crystallization  of  well-recog- 
nized canon  law,  designed  to  prevent  the  abuse  of 
power  by  the  royal  officers  and  not  to  affect  bona-fide 
contributions  to  the  royal  treasury.  Neither  did  it 
affect  any  tribute  due  under  the  feudal  obligation. 
The  pope  declared  it  was  far  from  his  intention  to 
cripple  the  government,  that  he  would  rather  have  the 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

clergy  sell  the  jewels  from  the  altars  than  expose  the 
kingdom  to  danger;  but,  on  the  other  hand— and  here 
is  expressed  the  strange  expectation  of  these  poli- 
ticians of  the  church — he  was  ready  to  suffer  persecu- 
tion, exile,  and  death  for  the  liberty  of  the  church. 
That  was  what  they  looked  forward  to  when  they 
raised  up  the  Cross  before  the  eyes  of  powerful 
princes :  not  the  altitude  of  power  and  latitude  of  do- 
minion with  which  human  statesmanship  concerns 
itself,  but  persecution  and  exile  and  death. 

Philip  had  gained  victories  in  the  field,  and  for  a 
time  he  assumed  a  more  peaceful  attitude  toward  the 
pope.  He  sent  a  deputation  to  Rome,  and  the  pope 
modified  his  bull  so  as  to  exempt  from  the  taxation 
prohibition  cases  of  necessity,  the  king  to  judge  of  the 
necessity.  On  his  side,  the  king  revoked  his  orders 
prohibiting  the  exportation  of  jewels  and  precious 
metals.  The  canonization  of  Louis  IX,  the  grand- 
father of  Philip,  occurring  at  this  time,  added  to  the 
good  feeling  between  France  and  Rome.  This  happy 
condition  lasted  until  Boniface  was  called  upon  to 
arbitrate  between  France  and  England.  The  de- 
cision of  the  arbitrator  did  not  please  Philip;  and 
although  the  French  king  submitted,  he  and  his  nobles 
began  to  enrich  themselves  at  the  expense  of  the 
churches.  Philip  seized  the  estate  of  the  Bishop  of 
Maguelonne,  and  took  over  for  the  royal  treasury  the 
funds  bequeathed  by  Cardinal  John  of  St.  Cecilia  to 
the  charities.  Other  nobles  made  free  with  church 
property  whenever  convenient:  Count  Robert  took 
with  the  sword  the  town  of  the  Bishop  of  Cambray. 
Meanwhile  the  French  court  was  a  refuge  for  the  re- 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

bellious  Colonnas,  who  vented  their  spite  against 
Boniface  in  the  most  amazing  aspersions  of  his  char- 
acter and  conduct. 

It  was  to  this  court  that  Boniface  sent  Bernard  de 
Saisset,  Bishop  of  Pamiers,  early  in  1301,  with  a  plea 
to  Philip  to  allow  the  church  tithes  to  be  used  for  the 
great  crusade.  A  rude  reception  the  papal  nuncio 
found  in  France.  He  was  made  a  prisoner,  despoiled 
of  his  property,  and  his  servants  were  cast  into  cells 
and  put  to  the  torture  in  order  to  extract  from  them 
confessions  upon  which  Peter  Flotte  might  base  a 
charge  of  conspiracy  against  the  throne.  Before  a 
court  assembled  by  Philip  the  bishop  was  haled, 
Flotte  confronting  him  with  his  accusation  of  high 
treason  and  the  depositions  of  the  servants  on  the 
rack.  The  papal  nuncio  contented  himself  with  a 
denial  of  the  competency  of  the  court,  and  he  was  con- 
victed and  placed  in  the  custody  of  the  Archbishop  of 
Narbonne. 

This  was  bitter  news  for  the  aged  pontiff,  beset  on 
one  side  by  the  German  monarch  and  threatened  now 
with  the  vengeance  of  an  angry  French  king.  On 
December  5,  1301,  he  prepared  a  bull  demanding  the 
possessions  and  the  person  of  his  messenger  from 
Philip.  This  was  the  famous  bull  that  the  critics  of 
the  papacy  have  held  up  as  a  shining  example  of  the 
arrogance  and  far-reaching  temporal  aggressiveness 
of  the  church.  It  takes  its  title  from  its  opening 
words,  "Ausculta,  fili  carissimi"  "Listen,  dearest 
son,"  the  aged  pope  says  to  the  king,  to  whose  notice 
he  then  brings  all  the  ills  the  church  has  suffered :  the 
attacks  upon  travellers  on  their  way  to  and  from 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Rome;  the  oppression  of  the  church  of  Lyons,  which 
was  not  in  the  kingdom  of  France :  all  the  sins  of  the 
monarch,  among  them  the  debasement  of  the  coinage 
which  had  caused  so  much  suffering  among  his  sub- 
jects. "God  has  set  us,  however  unworthy,  over  kings 
and  kingdoms,"  he  said. 

Philip  had  his  spies  in  the  consistory,  and  they 
brought  advance  information  of  the  nature  and  phra- 
seology of  the  bull.  The  words  quoted  above  made 
their  suggestion  to  the  political  instinct  of  Peter 
Flotte,  and  the  scene  was  set  for  the  great  coup  of 
Philip  when  Jacques  de  Norman  arrived  at  court  with 
the  pope's  message.  Philip  had  granted  audience  to 
Jacques,  who  was  Archbishop  of  Narbonne,  and, 
seated  on  his  throne  in  his  great  hall,  with  his  fiery 
nobles  around  him,  he  awaited  the  stately  prelate, 
who  advanced  with  the  document  in  his  hand.  Sud- 
denly from  the  circle  of  courtiers  sprang  forth  the 
Count  of  Artois,  cousin  of  Philip  and  famed  as  a  free- 
booter throughout  the  realm  of  France.  With  a  rude 
hand  he  tore  from  the  astonished  archbishop  the  great 
roll  and  flung  it  among  the  blazing  logs  in  the  chim- 
ney-place. De  Norman's  angry  protest  was  still  in  the 
air  when  the  count  placed  in  the  king's  hand  the  docu- 
ment known  in  history  as  "the  short  document." 
Flotte  had  made  good  use  of  the  advance  information ; 
the  paper  the  king  now  held  contained  some  of  the 
expressions  of  the  original  bull,  but  its  principal  dec- 
laration was  that  God  had  set  the  pope  above  the  king 
in  matters  spiritual  and  temporal.  The  archbishop's 
denunciation  of  the  forgery,  his  indignant  declaration 
that  the  bull  had  contained  nothing  with  regard  to 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

temporal  matters,  went  unheeded;  throughout  the 
kingdom  was  published  "the  short  document"  and  the 
king's  letter  in  reply,  a  letter  whose  style  was  sus- 
piciously similar  to  that  of  the  counterfeited  bull. 

By  every  means  that  clever  politicians  could  con- 
trive the  patriotism  of  France  was  inflamed,  the  cry  of 
"papal  aggression"  rang  from  one  end  to  the  other  of 
Philip's  wide  dominions.  The  people  were  told  that 
the  nation  was  in  danger,  that  the  Italians  were  to 
rule  them  by  order  of  the  pope.  Not  only  that,  but  by 
order  of  a  false  pope,  a  pope  illegally  elected  and  not 
entitled  to  supremacy  even  in  ecclesiastical  matters. 

Philip  proclaimed  himself  the  leader  of  the  national 
movement;  the  defender  of  France  against  Italian 
aggression.  On  April  10, 1302,  he  assembled  the  Par- 
liament of  the  Three  Estates,  before  whom  Flotte 
made  an  eloquent  and  impassioned  speech,  denounc- 
ing the  papal  aggression  in  temporal  matters.  Philip 
appealed  to  the  delegates  to  stand  by  him  "as  their 
friend  and  as  their  king."  The  robber  nobles,  to  whom 
the  pillage  of  church  property  was  a  most  attractive 
prospect,  in  a  very  hysteria  of  loyalty  resolved  to 
stand  by  the  king;  and  the  popular  deputies,  overawed 
by  the  fierce  warriors  of  the  superior  order,  and  led  by 
all  the  wild  clamor  to  believe  that  the  squadrons  of  the 
pope  were  already  riding  over  the  borders  of  France, 
did  not  demur.  The  clergy  asked  time  to  deliberate, 
but  the  nobles  and  political  agents  went  among  them 
with  threats,  and  they  at  last  signed  the  letters  the 
king  desired.  Even  then,  it  was  "with  bitter  tears," 
as  they  said,  that  they  addressed  their  remonstrance 
to  the  pope,  refusing  to  obey  his  summons  to  a  coun- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

cil  in  Rome  because  they  had  been  forbidden  by  the 
king  to  go  to  the  Eternal  City.  The  bull  Ausculta  flli 
had  commanded  the  clergy  to  attend  the  council  in 
Rome  in  order  that  they  might  there  discuss  the  mat- 
ters in  controversy  between  their  pope  and  their  king. 

Philip  could  now  boast  that  all  France  was  behind 
him  in  his  opposition  to  Boniface.  The  nobles  had 
addressed  a  letter  to  the  cardinals,  complaining  of  the 
pope,  and  intimating  that  they  would  undertake  a 
general  crusade  should  the  College  of  Cardinals 
"bring  matters  to  a  termination"  in  accordance  with 
the  king's  desire.  The  cardinals  replied  with  indigna- 
tion that  the  bull  had  been  discussed  in  consistory 
and  approved  by  them,  and  that  it  contained  no  such 
temporal  pretensions  as  those  against  which  com- 
plaint was  made.  Boniface's  answer  to  the  bishops 
contains  a  similar  denial;  he  accuses  Flotte  of  origi- 
nating the  intrigue,  as  he  terms  it. 

Pressing  now  his  assault  upon  Boniface,  Philip 
sent  his  envoys  and  some  of  his  clergy  to  a  consistory 
held  in  August,  1302,  over  which  the  Cardinal  Bishop 
of  Porte  presided.  That  dignitary  gave  little  comfort 
to  the  French  king's  representatives.  In  his  speech  to 
the  consistory  he  denied  the  authenticity  of  "the  short 
document." 

"If  prelates  are  called  to  Rome  to  deliberate,"  he 
said,  turning  upon  the  French  envoys,  "it  is  not  the 
opponents  of  the  king,  but  his  special  confidants,  who 
are  summoned ;  and  not  to  the  end  of  the  world,  but  to 
Rome." 

There  was  found  in  the  Church  of  St.  Victor  in 
Paris  a  codex  of  the  address  of  Boniface,  and  al- 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

though  it  is  doubtful  if  it  truly  represents  what  the 
pope  said,  it  probably  contains  much  of  his  speech. 
Boniface  bitterly  attacked  Flotte,  the  Count  of  Artois, 
and  the  Count  of  St.  Pol.  Flotte,  he  declared,  had 
falsified  his  bull  by  representing  the  pope  as  having 
declared  that  the  king  must  hold  France  as  a  fief  from 
him. 

"It  is  forty  years,"  the  pontiff  protests,  "since  we 
mastered  jurisprudence,  and  we  know  that  God  or- 
dains there  shall  be  two  powers:  who,  then,  can  or 
dare  believe  that  such  a  foolish  sentiment  came  from 
us?  We  declare  that  we  do  not  desire  to  trespass  on 
the  king's  jurisdiction  in  anything.  But  neither  the 
king  nor  any  other  Christian  can  deny  that  in  matters 
of  sin  he  is  subject  to  us." 

He  has  not  only  not  sought  to  deprive  the  king  of 
any  prerogative,  but,  in  so  far  as  it  was  lawful  for  him 
to  do  so,  he  has  forborne  to  interfere  in  ecclesiastical 
affairs  within  the  kingdom.  He  consented  to  the 
appointment  of  the  prebends  to  the  Church  of  Paris 
by  the  king,  stipulating  only  that  the  appointees  be 
"masters  of  theology,  or  doctors  of  law,  or  other 
learned  persons,  and  not  nephews  and  relations  of  this 
and  that  person";  but  the  king  had  appointed  only 
"worthless  favorites." 

"Let  the  cardinals  decide  between  us,"  the  pontiff 
proposed.  "Send  some  upright  nobles  to  Rome — the 
Duke  of  Burgundy  or  the  Count  of  Brittany,  or  such 
like — who  can  tell  me  in  what  I  have  erred  and  whom 
I  have  troubled." 

But  Philip  had  no  intention  of  trusting  his  cause  to 
a  tribunal  not  under  his  own  thumb.  His  agents  con- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

tinue  to  clamor  in  France  against  the  Italian  aggres- 
sion, his  nobles  oppress  such  ecclesiastics  as  are  faithful 
to  the  church,  and  the  roads  are  not  safe  for  pil- 
grims on  their  way  to  Rome.  In  that  city  in  October, 
1302,  Boniface  promulgates  at  the  great  synod  two 
bulls.  The  first  pronounces  excommunication  against 
any  one,  of  whatever  degree,  who  molests  travellers 
to  or  from  the  seat  of  the  Holy  See.  The  second  was 
the  celebrated  bull  Unam  sanctam,  which  was  an  ar- 
gument of  the  principle  of  the  power  of  popes  to  judge 
princes  in  the  administration  of  their  states  in  so  far 
as  the  church  was  affected  thereby.  It  was  simply  a 
statement  of  the  canon  and  the  public  law  of  Europe 
at  that  time,  and  the  principle  it  stated  was  by  no 
means  that  states  were  subject  to  the  church,  but  that 
princes  no  less  than  subjects  were  accountable  for 
their  conduct  to  God.  As  the  pope  was  the  vicar  of 
Christ,  it  followed  that  every  human  being  was  sub- 
ject to  the  pope.  As  there  can  be  no  question  as  to  the 
ability  of  Boniface  as  a  lawyer,  it  may  be  taken  for 
granted  that  what  he  stated  was  good  law  at  that 
time.  It  was  absolutely  conclusive  against  those  who 
admitted  his  major  premise  that  the  pope  was  the 
vicar  of  God,  and  not  Philip  or  one  of  his  advisers  ever 
held  to  the  contrary.  The  modern  who  reads  it  must 
keep  in  mind  the  personal  character  of  government  in 
that  day,  and  the  distinction  between  states  and 
princes  in  the  administration  of  their  states,  which  is  by 
no  means  a  hair-fine  distinction.  Can  there  be  any 
doubt  that  the  public  officer  of  to-day,  mayor  or  gov- 
ernor or  president,  who  is  dishonest,  or  oppressive,  or 
unjust  in  the  administration  of  his  office,  violates  the 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

precepts  of  his  religion,  Catholic  or  Protestant,  and  is 
individually  responsible  to  God?  Does  any  church 
claiming  divine  authority  hold  less  to-day  in  this  re- 
gard than  did  Boniface  VIII  in  the  much  misrepre- 
sented bull  Unam  sanctam? 

Death  deprived  Philip  of  two  of  his  boldest  support- 
ers. His  cousin,  the  Count  of  Artois,  and  Peter  Flotte 
were  gone,  but  at  his  side  was  a  counsellor  less  skilful 
but  more  malignant  than  Flotte  had  been.  William 
de  Nogaret,  keeper  of  the  seals  and  friend  of  the  Co- 
lonnas,  became  all-powerful  at  the  French  court. 
Philip  had  made  an  answer  to  the  pope's  complaint  in 
which  he  had  laid  the  blame  for  some  of  his  actions 
upon  the  shoulders  of  officers  who  had  exceeded  their 
authority,  and  had  calmly  ignored  other  causes  of 
complaint.  He  made  a  vague  and  general  promise  of 
reform,  but  the  pope  could  see  in  it  no  real  intention 
of  a  change  of  policy. 

In  March,  1303,  another  of  the  spectacular  incidents 
of  the  controversy  interested  the  court.  De  Nogaret 
publicly  challenged  the  king  to  protect  Holy  Church 
against  Boniface,  "the  interloper,  false  pope,  thief, 
robber,  heretic,  simonist,"  and  to  convoke  a  general 
council  for  his  deposition.  Philip  assembled  thirty  of 
his  political  prelates,  who  heard  on  June  13,  1303,  the 
charges  that  had  been  prepared.  The  Lord  of  Veze- 
nobre,  du  Plessis,  opened  the  attack.  He  laid  at  the 
door  of  Boniface  every  abomination  the  fertile  mind 
of  the  day  could  imagine.  He  appealed  to  Philip  to 
insist  upon  a  general  council  for  the  trial  of  so  great  a 
criminal.  Other  nobles  followed  in  the  same  strain, 
and  then  Philip  promised  that  he  would  try  to  have  a 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

general  council  convened.  He  appealed,  he  said,  to 
the  future  general  council  and  the  future  true1  pope. 

A  petition,  drawn  in  the  spirit  of  this  convention, 
was  circulated  for  signature.  The  king's  servants  had 
some  difficulty  in  getting  it  signed.  The  Abbot  of 
Citeaux  was  thrown  into  prison  for  refusing  to  write 
his  name  to  it.  The  Abbots  of  Cluny  and  Premontre 
also  suffered  incarceration  for  the  same  cause,  and  the 
Dominican  monks  of  Montpellier  were  driven  out  of 
the  kingdom,  because  they  refused  to  lend  their  names 
to  Philip's  accusations.  The  king  undertook  to  jus- 
tify himself  in  the  face  of  the  world  by  letters  he  sent 
to  the  princes  of  Europe. 

Meanwhile  Boniface  held  a  consistory  at  Anagni, 
and  in  the  presence  of  the  cardinals  solemnly  swore 
that  the  charges  against  him  were  false.  He  took 
over  the  French  benefices  and  announced  the  prepara- 
tion of  the  bull  of  excommunication  against  Philip. 
For,  contrary  to  the  impression  one  gets  from  con- 
ventional history,  Philip  had  not  been  excommuni- 
cated by  name.  As  one  of  those  who  had  molested 
travellers  and  despoiled  church  property,  he  had 
fallen  under  the  ban  pronounced  against  such  offend- 
ers in  general,  but  he  had  not  been  pointed  out  by  the 
voice  of  the  church  as  one  cut  off  and  accursed. 

This  the  court  resolved  to  prevent,  by  violence  if 
necessary.  The  Colonnas  were  kept  well  advised  by 
their  spies  of  what  was  passing  in  Anagni,  and  de 
Nogaret  and  Sciarra  Colonna,  with  a  huge  treasure- 
chest,  hurried  into  Italy.  They  gathered  together 
some  rebellious  lords  of  the  Papal  States,  and  hired  a 
band  of  those  banditti  whose  swords  were  always  on 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

the  market  for  any  purpose  whatever.  With  a  force 
of  these  formidable  free  companions  at  his  back,  de 
Nogaret  appeared  before  the  walls  of  Anagni  on  Sep- 
tember 7,  1303.  Treachery  opened  the  gates  to  him, 
and  his  mercenaries  poured  into  the  town.  The  papal 
guard  was  beaten  back;  the  household  of  the  pope 
fled.  De  Nogaret's  followers  pillaged  the  palace,  de- 
stroying the  archives  and  thus  blotting  out  docu- 
ments which  might  have  thrown  much  light  upon  this 
controversy. 

The  wild  uproar  in  the  palace  apprised  Boniface 
that  his  enemies  were  under  his  roof,  but  there  was  no 
fear  in  the  heart  of  the  aged  pontiff.  "Open  the  doors 
of  my  apartments,"  he  imperiously  ordered  those  who 
still  gathered  around  him,  "for  I  will  suffer  martyr- 
dom for  the  church  of  God!  As  I  am  taken,  like 
Christ,  by  treachery,  I  will  die  as  pope !" 

He  clothed  his  body  with  the  majestic  vestments 
of  his  office ;  he  set  upon  his  own  brow,  wrinkled  with 
thought  and  trouble,  the  towering  triple  crown. 
Proudly  straightening  the  back  that  eighty-six  years 
had  bowed  down,  he  ascended  the  throne  of  Peter,  and 
there  he  sat  with  calm  eyes  regarding  the  crowd  of 
men  in  steel  coats  and  with  bloody  swords  who 
streamed  into  his  audience-chamber.  By  his  side 
were  two  of  the  princes  of  the  church  who  had  re- 
mained with  him,  the  Cardinals  Nicholas  Boccasin 
and  Peter  d'Espagne.  Before  that  splendid  and  ven- 
erable figure  the  rude  soldiers  shrank  back,  and,  with 
eyes  that  never  faltered,  Boniface  saw  de  Nogaret  and 
Sciarra  Colonna  push  to  the  front,  a  naked  blade  in 
the  hand  of  the  Italian.  Colonna  leaped  up  the  step 

3 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

and  drew  back  his  mailed  fist  to  strike,  but  de  Nogaret 
pulled  down  his  arm.  The  servant  of  the  French  king 
had  insults  to  heap  upon  this  old  man  whose  tranquil 
eyes  regarded  him  with  so  deep  a  pity.  From  his 
breast  he  drew  the  accusation  of  the  Assembly  of 
Paris,  and  in  a  loud  tone  he  read  it.  Finding  the  pope 
still  silent  when  he  had  concluded,  his  anger  surged 
up  to  his  brain  and  he  cried  out: 

"I  will  have  you  taken  to  Lyons  in  chains  to  be  tried 
by  a  general  council  and  deposed !" 

Then  for  the  first  time  Boniface  spoke. 

"Here  is  my  head  and  here  is  my  neck!"  he  an- 
swered in  the  rich,  firm  voice  that  had  made  him 
noted  among  the  preachers  of  the  church.  "For  the 
liberty  of  the  church  I  will  submit,  as  Catholic,  as 
lawful  pope,  and  as  vicar  of  Jesus  Christ,  to  be  con- 
demned by  the  paterini;  for  I  desire  martyrdom  for 
faith  in  Christ  and  his  church !" 

The  rage  of  de  Nogaret  blazed  out  in  an  impreca- 
tion, and  he  grasped  the  pontiff  and  tore  him  from  his 
seat.  As  Boniface  staggered  at  the  foot  of  his 
throne,  Colonna  struck  him.  Cries  of  "Malefactor !" 
"Cursed  malefactor!"  rose  from  the  soldiers,  who, 
steeled  as  they  were  against  pity,  were  horrified  at  the 
violence  offered  to  the  venerable  head  of  the  faith. 
But  Colonna  and  de  Nogaret  sternly  silenced  the  mal- 
contents and  drove  the  pope  to  the  castle  of  a  noble  in 
the  town,  who  had  sought  his  own  advantage  by  en- 
tering into  a  league  with  the  French.  There  an  at- 
tempt was  made  to  starve  the  pope  into  an  agreement 
to  abdicate,  but  neither  blows  nor  privation  could 
shake  the  spirit  of  that  old  man.  He  bore  his  ordeal 


TWO  FRENCH  PHILIPS 

with  weakening  bodily  but  unimpaired  spiritual 
strength. 

De  Nogaret  had  hoped  to  return  to  France  with  the 
pope's  abdication,  but  he  was  doomed  to  disappoint- 
ment. The  horrified  townspeople,  who  had  been 
awed  by  the  military  strength  of  de  Nogaret's  follow- 
ing, began  to  murmur,  and  the  sense  of  outrage  em- 
boldened them.  There  were  little  assemblages  in  the 
smithy,  in  the  shop  of  the  barber,  in  front  of  the  doors 
of  the  substantial  citizens;  the  tradesmen  in  the  mar- 
ket-place glowered  at  the  swaggering  free  companions 
in  their  iron  headpieces.  It  needed  but  a  leader  to 
gather  these  together,  and  the  leader  was  found  in 
Cardinal  del  Fiesco.  Three  days  after  the  attack  upon 
Boniface  the  cry  of  "Long  live  the  pope !  Death  to  the 
traitors!"  resounded  in  the  quiet  streets  of  Anagni, 
and  de  Nogaret  and  his  band  found  themselves  furi- 
ously assailed  by  a  mob  of  townspeople  headed  by  the 
cardinal.  Despite  their  discipline,  they  were  driven 
outside  the  walls.  The  pope  was  released.  He  called 
a  consistory  at  once,  and  his  first  words  were  a  procla- 
mation of  pardon  to  those  who  had  subjected  him  to 
so  much  pain  and  indignity. 

Meanwhile  the  Colonnas  had  gathered  partisans 
and  were  besieging  Anagni.  The  news  of  the  attack 
spread  over  the  country,  and  in  Rome  the  Orsini, 
hereditary  enemies  of  the  Colonnas,  prepared  to  take 
partisan  advantage  of  the  situation.  Gathering  their 
men-at-arms,  they  rode  with  all  speed  to  Anagni  and 
relieved  the  town.  They  brought  Boniface  back  with 
them  to  Rome.  But  the  privations  to  which  he  had 
been  subjected  were  too  much  for  the  frame  of  so  old 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

a  man :  thirty-five  days  only  he  survived  the  outrage 
of  Anagni. 

Benedict  XI  reigned  only  six  months,  but  it  was  suf- 
ficient for  him  to  express  his  horror  over  the  attack 
upon  the  person  of  his  predecessor.  There  followed 
him  in  the  papal  chair  Clement  V,  the  first  of  a  long 
succession  of  French  popes.  Philip  now  believed  he 
had  won  the  long  fight;  henceforth  the  popes  were  to 
dwell  at  Avignon.  But  hatred  of  the  pontiff  who  had 
so  long  defied  him,  or  perhaps  a  desire  for  the  vindica- 
tion in  the  eyes  of  the  world  which  the  condemnation 
of  that  pope's  memory  might  give  him,  urged  him  to 
importune  Clement  to  call  a  council  for  the  trial  of  the 
old  charges.  At  last  Clement  yielded  so  far  that  he 
convened  the  general  council.  But  there  the  artificial- 
ity of  Philip's  case  became  so  apparent,  and  so  many 
of  the  learned  and  saintly  fathers  of  the  church  came 
forward  to  defend  Boniface's  memory,  that  the 
French  politicians  considered  it  expedient  to  divert 
public  attention  by  sensational  charges  made  against 
the  Knights  Templars.  The  pope  insisted  on  some 
disposition  of  the  case  of  Boniface,  although  Philip 
desired  simply  to  have  it  dropped.  Finally,  however, 
there  appeared  before  the  council  three  knights  in 
armor,  and  before  the  bar  of  that  ecclesiastical  court 
they  threw  down  their  gauntlets,  while  the  herald 
proclaimed  their  readiness  to  defend  with  their  bodies 
the  holiness  of  life  of  Boniface.  None  appeared  to 
gainsay  them.  Thus  they  settled  the  case  according 
to  the  custom  of  those  days. 


£124:1 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

THREE  citizens  of  the  American  Republic  have 
just  been  elevated  by  ordination  of  Pope  Pius 
X  to  a  rank  that  had  its  origin  in  the  Roman 
catacombs.  They  have  entered  the  senate  of  their 
church,  which  was  organized  under  the  direction  of 
that  Hildebrand  who  afterward  became  Pope  Gregory 
VII.  Having  left  the  modern  cities  of  Boston  and  New 
York — the  Boston  and  New  York  we  know,  that  are 
alive  with  the  fullness  of  the  spirit  of  this  age ;  having 
crossed  the  Atlantic  in  great  vessels  propelled  by 
steam-power;  having  flashed  messages  to  friends 
from  mid-ocean  by  means  of  a  modern  miracle,  the 
wireless  telegraph;  having  traversed  that  ancient 
Gaul,  in  which  St.  Boniface  preached,  in  cars  drawn 
by  steam-locomotives;  having  ridden  in  automobiles 
through  the  streets  of  the  city  of  the  Caesars,  they 
kneel  before  the  altar  of  the  great  Church  of  St.  Peter, 
whose  foundations  were  laid,  four  decades  before 
Columbus  sailed  from  Palos,  upon  the  last  resting- 
place  of  that  Peter  who  was  Prince  of  the  Apostles  of 
Jesus  Christ! 

Incidents  such  as  this  realize  history  for  us;  they 
are  the  living,  tangible  bonds  between  us  and  the  dis- 
tant past;  they  connect  the  things  which  are  familiar, 
visible,  intimate,  with  the  things  that  are  strange, 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

ghostly,  and  remote;  they  are  to  a  doubting  genera- 
tion as  were  the  wounds  of  the  Saviour  which  the 
doubting  Thomas  must  touch  with  his  own  hands. 

They  help  us  to  invest  with  flesh  and  blood  and  vi- 
talize with  spirit  the  figures  that  history  presents  to  us. 
They  make  it  easier  for  us  to  form  a  mental  picture  of 
the  Julius  II  with  whom  Michelangelo  talked  of  this 
very  dome  beneath  which  Pius  X  and  the  American 
cardinals  kneel  to-day.  We  see  the  flashing  eyes  of  the 
master  sculptor  as  he  urges  his  mighty  project  upon 
the  pope:  "Think,  your  Holiness,  of  this  vast  dome, 
this  replica  of  the  ancient  Roman  Pantheon,  elevated 
upon  great  columns  to  typify  the  elevation  of  our  holy 
faith  over  that  paganism  which  once  found  its  home  in 
the  Pantheon;  think  of  so  majestic  a  structure  in 
which  all  that  is  noble  and  beautiful  shall  find  expres- 
sion, its  base  comprehending  the  world  beneath  it,  its 
foundations  on  the  grave  of  the  martyred  Peter,  and 
its  apex  lifted  high  in  glorification  of  the  Son  of  God !" 
We  can  better  understand  the  enthusiasm  of  the  great 
soldier-pope,  the  impatience  with  which  he  had  torn 
down  the  ancient  basilica  in  order  that  so  vast  a  proj- 
ect should  not  be  hampered  for  lack  of  room;  the  op- 
position of  some  of  the  cardinals  who  represented  the 
love  the  medieval  world  had  for  the  old  church  with 
all  its  great  memories.  These  things  come  nearer  to 
us;  they  are  clearer  to  our  sight  because  of  the  cere- 
monies whereby  Cardinals  Farley,  Falconio,  and 
O'Connell  have  just  been  inducted  into  the  senate  of 
their  ancient  church. 

Julius  II  came  to  the  throne  of  Peter  when  the  war- 
like spirit  of  Europe  was  changing  in  its  character.  It 

CMC  3 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

was  more  fierce  and  cruel  than  ever  it  had  been,  but  it 
was  no  longer  devotional.  The  church  still  cherished 
the  design  of  reclaiming  the  Holy  Land,  but  the 
princes  were  interested  in  nothing  but  territorial  ex- 
tension and  political  power.  The  old  fluid  condition 
of  European  politics  was  passing  away;  states  were 
solidifying,  national  boundaries  growing  more  defi- 
nite. No  man  can  play  a  great  part  in  any  age  without 
being  influenced  by  the  spirit  of  that  age,  and  Julius 
II,  when  he  received  the  Ring  of  the  Fisherman,  had  a 
great  part  to  play.  The  personal  immorality  of  Alex- 
ander VI,  the  cruelty  and  rapacity  of  Caesar  Borgia, 
had  not  only  weakened  the  moral  prestige  of  the 
papacy,  but  had  ruined  the  Papal  States.  Everywhere 
there  was  rebellion,  everywhere  in  the  domain  of  the 
church  there  was  lack  of  respect  for  law.  Free  com- 
panions plundered  the  cities,  and  nobles  and  their 
henchmen  robbed  and  murdered  on  the  public  roads. 
Proud  vassals  laughed  at  the  enfeebled  papacy,  and 
tyrannized  over  the  common  people.  The  north  of 
Italy  had  been  lost  to  the  States  of  the  Church,  the 
German  power  shadowed  all  Italy. 

Without  a  clear  understanding  of  all  this,  and  of  the 
thoughts  and  motives  of  the  princes  of  Europe,  we 
cannot  understand  how  political  conditions  influenced 
the  thought  and  literature  of  the  Reformation  and  the 
attitude  of  Protestant  peoples  toward  the  church  from 
which  they  had  separated.  It  was  never  the  theolog- 
ical consideration  that  embittered  Catholic  against 
Protestant  and  Protestant  against  Catholic;  it  was 
ever  the  breath  of  secular  politics  that  fanned  the 
flame  of  hatred  and  blackened  history  for  three  cen- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

turies  with  the  most  remarkable  falsehoods.  A  di- 
vision on  points  of  doctrine  there  might  have  been, 
otherwise;  but  it  would  never  have  left  us  with 
prejudices  so  blind  that  our  every  thought  of  the  com- 
monest problems  must  be  made  insane  by  the  hatred 
we  have  for  fellow-Christians. 

We  do  not  have  to  go  in  this  day  to  Catholic  his- 
torians for  proof  that  this  is  so.  A  reading  of  our  own 
accepted  historians  shows  it  so  clearly  that  it  is 
strange  that  every  one  who  reads  them  does  not  see  it 
instantly.  The  Great  Schism  was  due  to  the  interfer- 
ence of  the  temporal  rulers  with  ecclesiastical  affairs. 
That  interference  left  a  Catholic  world  with  two 
claimants  to  the  papacy,  and  a  wide-spread  doubt  as 
to  which  had  the  right  on  his  side.  It  was  settled  at 
the  Council  of  Constance,  but  in  the  meantime  it  had 
been  made  the  tool  of  politics.  By  confusing  the  peo- 
ple it  had  allowed  the  princes  to  shift  from  side  to 
side,  as  suited  them,  without  fear  of  such  conse- 
quences as  would  follow  in  the  days  when,  despite  the 
election  of  antipopes,  there  was  no  doubt  among  the 
people  as  to  the  identity  of  the  true  pope.  Ranke 
points  this  out.  "It  was  long  at  the  option  of  each 
prince,"  he  says,  "to  attach  himself  to  one  pope  or  the 
other,  as  might  best  suit  his  political  interests" 

And  the  princes  were  only  seeking  some  such  pre- 
text. Remember,  it  was  the  day  of  personal  govern- 
ment, of  absolutism  in  politics,  the  day  when  the  favor 
or  disfavor  of  a  prince  meant  life  or  death  to  a  subject ! 
The  "civil  power,"  of  which  we  hear  so  much,  didn't 
mean  a  "government  of  the  people,  by  the  people, 
for  the  people";  it  meant  a  Henry,  or  a  Conrad,  or  a 

[128:1 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

Philip,  or  a  Louis,  who  might  happen  to  be  born  a 
king.  They  were  robbing  one  another  whenever  op- 
portunity offered,  and  the  people  all  the  time;  they 
were  indulging  every  passion  without  scruple  and 
without  check— "the  king  could  do  no  wrong." 
Where  was  the  bar  at  which  he  could  be  arraigned, 
where  was  the  judge  to  try  him?  There  was  only  one 
such  to  pass  upon  his  moral  guilt,  and  he  went  as  far 
as  he  dared  to  defy  and  oppress  that.  No  wonder  that, 
as  the  Protestant  historian  we  have  quoted  says,  "The 
civil  power  would  no  longer  endure  the  presence  of 
any  higher  authority."  No  wonder  that  the  popes 
themselves  looked  to  the  material  sword  to  protect 
them  against  so  conscienceless  a  band  of  tyrants  as 
then  cursed  Europe. 

"I  had  once  thought,"  exclaimed  a  speaker  at  the 
Council  of  Basel,  "that  the  secular  power  should  be 
wholly  separate  from  that  of  the  church;  but  I  have 
now  learned  that  virtue  without  force  is  but  slightly 
respected,  and  that  the  pope,  without  the  patrimony 
of  the  church,  would  be  the  mere  servant  of  kings  and 
princes !" 

Indeed,  the  princes  had  done  much  toward  impair- 
ing the  moral  value  of  the  church.  They  had  made 
the  great  bishoprics  crown  patronage;  it  was  a  poor 
monarch  who  did  not  have  a  vassal  prelate  riding  in 
mail  among  his  men-at-arms,  and  a  profligate  arch- 
bishop of  his  own  appointment  making  jest  of  holy 
things  at  his  court,  while  a  hired  substitute  performed 
his  pastoral  duties. 

Into  such  a  world  came  Pope  Julius  II  to  talk  to 
such  princes  in  the  only  language  for  which  they  had 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

any  respect.  He  was  not  a  young  man  when  he 
ascended  the  chair  of  St.  Peter  and  received  the  tem- 
poral crown  of  the  Papal  States  with  the  spiritual 
crown  of  the  Bishop  of  Rome,  but  he  undertook  the 
warfare  for  the  pacification  and  reclamation  of  the 
patrimony  of  the  church  with  the  zeal  and  strength 
and  skill  of  a  spirit  upon  which  the  passing  years 
seemed  to  have  no  effect.  The  boasting  nobles  of 
Italy  first  felt  his  power;  he  cleared  the  roads  of  rob- 
bers, peasant  and  noble  alike.  The  bandit  business 
became  unprofitable  and  extremely  dangerous. 
Everywhere  in  the  tyrant-ridden  States  of  the  Church 
the  armed  priest  appeared  as  a  liberator,  and  the  peo- 
ple thereafter  rejoiced  in  just  and  benignant  govern- 
ment. It  was  by  the  sword  that  Julius  regained  many 
of  the  alienated  provinces  of  the  papacy,  but  it  was  by 
bonds  of  affectionate  loyalty  that  he  bound  them  into 
a  political  unit  which  secular  princes  learned  to  dread. 
He  had  begun  his  career  of  conquest  by  calling  the 
Swiss  to  his  aid ;  he  needed  no  foreign  soldiery  when 
once  the  people  learned  of  the  beneficence  and  justice 
of  his  government.  "Time  was,"  Machiavelli  writes, 
"when  no  baron  was  so  insignificant  but  that  he  might 
venture  to  brave  the  papal  power :  now  it  is  regarded 
with  respect  even  by  a  king  of  France." 

But  he  not  only  consolidated  and  strengthened 
the  Papal  States,  and  reclaimed  from  the  Venetians 
those  cities  they  had  seized:  he  freed  all  Italy  from 
the  shadow  of  foreign  domination.  Before  the  sword 
of  this  soldier-priest,  who  in  his  old  age  would  lead  his 
knights  across  the  bloody  field  and  into  the  breach  of 
a  battered  wall,  the  German  invaders  were  driven  into 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

their  own  boundaries  and  the  German  power  was 
humiliated  by  the  loss  of  northern  Italy. 

The  consequences  of  this  were  tremendous.  The 
national  pride  of  Germany  had  been  hurt  by  a  pope; 
one  of  the  despised  Latin  race  had  broken  the  warlike 
Teuton's  power.  All  the  bitterness  of  a  war  between 
races  found  expression  in  calumnies  of  the  pope  and 
the  Italians.  It  was  reported  throughout  Germany 
that  Rome  was  full  of  evil  things,  that  the  papacy  was 
being  used  to  humiliate  and  dismember  the  empire. 

To  me  it  seems  that  Julius  II  would  have  had  the 
praise  of  the  world  had  he  been  but  one  of  the  two 
things  he  was.  He  was  splendid  as  a  patriot;  as  a 
soldier  he  had  no  superior  among  the  generals  of  the 
day;  as  a  prince  he  was  just  and  wise.  On  the  other 
hand,  his  devotion  was  pure  and  his  piety  profound, 
his  mind  was  enlightened,  and  the  budding  flower  of 
the  Renaissance  which  was  to  burst  into  full  bloom  in 
the  reign  of  Leo  X  was  sympathetically  nurtured  by 
Julius.  As  a  pope  he  was  admirable;  as  a  prince  he 
was  admirable :  but  as  pope  and  prince,  he  sowed  po- 
litical prejudice  deep  in  the  breast  of  Germany. 

Less  than  ever  after  the  day  of  Julius  were  the 
princes  of  Europe  disposed  to  bear  the  check  of 
the  papal  influence.  He  had  planted  in  their  mind  the 
suggestion  that  a  pope  might  arise  with  the  spirit  of  a 
Caesar  and  the  temper  of  a  Julius,  with  a  vast  project 
of  consolidating  politically  a  great  Christian  state, 
and  little  did  they  relish  such  a  notion.  "It  was  now 
the  time,"  says  Ranke,  "when  the  European  kingdoms 
were  finally  consolidating  their  forces  after  long 
struggles.  The  papacy,  interfering  in  all  things  and 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

seeking  to  dominate  all,  came  very  soon  to  be  re- 
garded in  a  political  point  of  view;  the  temporal  princes 
now  began  to  put  forth  higher  claims  than  they  had 
done  hitherto." 

But  it  was  not  only  that  their  spirit  of  licentious- 
ness was  chafed:  another  consideration  was  making 
itself  felt.  Kings  and  nobles  fought,  monks  worked. 
The  result  is  simple  in  economics.  The  long  wars  had 
impoverished  the  princes ;  there  was  not  much  profit 
now  even  in  robbing  one  another,  and  the  wealthy 
cities  had  strong  walls  and  paid  soldiers  to  make  their 
despoliation  difficult  and  dangerous.  On  the  other 
hand,  the  church  properties  were  rich  and  unpro- 
tected. The  "thirsting  eye  of  enterprise"  rested  long- 
ingly on  them.  During  the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth 
centuries  there  were  many  instances  of  the  appropria- 
tion of  the  funds  and  property  of  religious  by  the 
secular  powers.  Sometimes  it  was  done  under  the 
color  of  royal  proclamation,  sometimes  it  was  simple 
pillage.  Sometimes  it  was  accomplished  through  the 
agency  of  political  bishops. 

The  political  control  of  ecclesiastical  appointments, 
against  which  Gregory  VII  had  fought,  had  had  its 
effect.  The  clergy  were  in  a  great  measure  demoral- 
ized. The  court  favorites  who  held  the  great  church 
benefices  by  imposition  of  the  kings  lived  dissolute 
lives,  and  the  lower  clergy  in  quite  considerable  num- 
ber followed  the  bad  example  of  their  superiors.  The 
moral  relaxation  invaded  monasteries,  and  there  is  on 
record  a  report  of  that  Cardinal  Caraffa,  who  was 
afterward  Pope  Paul  IV,  to  Pope  Clement,  who  had 
sent  him  to  visit  the  monasteries,  in  which  the  cardi- 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

nal  indignantly  describes  the  evil  state  to  which  poli- 
tics had  reduced  children  of  the  church. 

How  strange  in  ears  that  have  heard  so  much  of 
papal  exactions  are  the  words  of  Ranke,  occurring 
time  and  again,  with  regard  to  the  part  thereof  that 
really  went  to  the  church! 

"Participation  in  ecclesiastical  revenues  and  the 
right  of  promotion  to  church  benefices  and  offices  was 
that  which  the  civil  power  more  especially  desired,"  is 
one  of  his  illuminating  phrases.  And  he  gives  us  in- 
stances. In  Spain,  King  Emanuel  calmly  takes  to  him- 
self one-tenth  of  the  property  of  the  church.  Henry 
VII  of  England  assumed  the  right  of  nominating 
bishops,  and  "appropriated"  one-half  of  the  "first 
fruits"  (church  tithes).  And  as  to  Henry  VIII,  thus 
was  he  "defending  the  faith,"  as  Ranke  tells  it :  "Be- 
fore Protestantism  had  even  been  thought  of  by  the 
English  sovereign,  he  had  already  proceeded  to  a 
merciless  confiscation  of  the  numerous  monasteries." 
Truly,  it  was  the  open  season  for  monasteries. 

But  now  we  come  to  a  passage  of  the  greatest  sig- 
nificance, because  it  treats  of  a  period  and  a  place  and 
a  project  within  the  youth,  the  vicinity,  and  the  pur- 
view of  the  great  leader  of  the  Reformation. 

"In  1500,"  Ranke  says,  "the  [German]  imperial 
government  accorded  one-third  only  of  the  sums  pro- 
duced by  indulgences  to  the  papal  legates,  appropriating 
the  remaining  two-thirds" 

Here  may  we  well  pause,  for  it  was  the  charge  of 
the  sale  of  indulgences  that  more  than  anything  else 
contributed  to  the  popular  success  of  the  Reforma- 
tion. Princes  had  their  own  reasons,  doctrinal  points 

[1333 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

might  interest  the  controversial  humanists,  but  to  the 
peasantry  of  Europe  "justification  by  faith"  meant 
nothing:  such  subtleties  were  not  for  them.  The 
thing  that  hurt  the  Catholic  Church  was  the  charge 
that  her  priests  were  selling  the  mercy  of  God  for 
gold.  Melanchthon  and  his  confreres  might  learn- 
edly draft  a  confession  of  faith,  but  it  was  Luther  who 
knew  how  to  catch  the  popular  ear  and  stir  the  popu- 
lar indignation. 

What,  then,  is  an  indulgence? 

"An  indulgence,"  says  the  Rev.  Charles  Coppens, 
a  Jesuit,  "is  a  remission  of  the  temporal  punishment 
due  to  sin  after  the  guilt  has  been  remitted.  That  such 
punishment  may  remain  after  the  pardon  of  a  sin,  is 
taught  clearly  in  Holy  Scripture,  where  we  read  that 
Nathan  said  to  David :  'The  Lord  hath  taken  away  thy 
sin:  nevertheless,  the  child  that  is  born  of  thee  shall 
die*  (2  Kings  xiii,  13,  14).  Now  Christ  commissions 
St.  Peter,  saying,  'Whatsoever  thou  shalt  loose  on 
earth,  it  shall  be  loosed  also  in  heaven'  (Matt,  xvi,  19). 
Hence  the  popes,  as  successors  of  St.  Peter,  claim  the 
power  of  granting  the  remission  of  whatever  can  keep 
us  out  of  heaven;  both  the  guilt,  by  absolution,  and 
the  penalty  of  sin,  by  indulgences:  provided  all  be 
done  so  as  to  promote  the  glory  of  God  and  the  good 
of  souls." 

But  how  could  indulgences  "produce"  money,  to 
use  Ranke's  term? 

The  great  Church  of  St.  Peter  was  now  under  way ; 
Julius  had  thrown  himself  into  the  project  with  char- 
acteristic enthusiasm,  in  Rome  the  dreams  of  Bra- 
bante  and  Michelangelo  were  being  crystallized.  The 

CI34H 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

whole  church  was  to  participate  in  the  creation  of  this 
magnificent  pile.  Those  who  had  means  were  to  con- 
tribute money,  those  who  had  none  were  to  pray  for 
the  success  of  the  enterprise.  As  the  monks  had  in 
past  generations  gone  through  Europe  preaching  the 
crusades,  so  now  they  went  among  the  people  preach- 
ing the  construction  of  Christendom's  mighty  altar. 
Whoever  in  any  way  contributed  to  so  desirable  an 
object  did  a  good  deed,  and  as  a  reward  for  that  deed 
received  an  indulgence.  The  instructions  of  the  popes 
were  clear  enough :  the  indulgence  was  to  be  granted 
to  him  who,  having  made  a  good  confession  and  re- 
ceived absolution,  should  give  to  the  fund  for  St. 
Peter's;  or,  if  he  had  no  means,  should  pray  for  the 
fortunate  progress  of  the  enterprise. 

If,  then,  the  greedy  civil  authorities  were  "appro- 
priating" two-thirds  of  the  contributions  made  for 
holy  purposes,  it  may  be  conjectured  that  corruption 
would  enter  into  the  system.  That  it  did  so  is  quite 
evident  from  a  study  of  Catholic  authorities.  The 
Jesuit  writer  whom  I  have  quoted  already  says : 

"Did  any  great  abuse  occur  in  connection  with  the 
indulgence  preached  by  Tetzel  and  his  companions? 
Yes.  What  we  now  call  'graft'  was  a  pretty  common 
abuse  in  Luther's  time.  It  was  perhaps  almost  as  bad 
then  as  it  is  to-day.  But  it  was  a  much  greater  scan- 
dal then  than  it  is  now,  because  many  persons  guilty 
of  it  were  churchmen,  and  not  merely  city  or  state 
officials.  The  crime  of  simony — that  is,  selling  sacred 
things  for  money  or  its  equivalent — has  often  been  a 
plague  of  the  church.  It  has  done  a  great  amount  of 
harm  by  getting  unworthy  men  into  sacred  offices. 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Then  these  unworthy  bishops  or  cardinals  disgraced 
their  holy  religion  and  caused  those  very  scandals 
which  Luther  gave  as  a  pretext  for  his  reform.  For 
instance,  Albert,  the  archbishop  of  Mayence  at  the 
time  we  speak  of,  had  become  archbishop  by  simony; 
and  when  the  indulgence  of  St.  Peter's  Church  was 
preached,  he  strove  to  have  one-third  of  the  money 
collected  in  his  province  turned  into  his  own  pocket 
to  reimburse  him  for  the  sum  he  had  spent  to  get  his 
office." 

It  was  in  1500  that  Germany  took  two-thirds  of  the 
funds  raised  for  the  erection  of  St.  Peter's  Church. 
Only  seventeen  years,  and  Luther  will  be  preaching 
those  tremendous  Lenten  sermons  in  Wittenberg. 
Three  years,  and  Julius  II  will  be  pope.  Maximilian  I 
is  emperor  of  Germany,  Louis  XII  king  of  France, 
and  the  great  Ferdinand  has  just  driven  the  Moors 
out  of  Spain  and  reigns  on  the  Iberian  peninsula.  In 
England  Henry  VII  is  on  the  throne;  John  II  rules 
Denmark  and  Sweden.  It  was  a  period  of  strange  psy- 
chological uneasiness;  mighty  impulses  were  stirring 
everywhere.  The  adventurous  mind  of  Europe  was 
reaching  out  over  the  world.  Columbus  had  discov- 
ered the  western  continent  beyond  the  Atlantic ;  sol- 
diers and  missionaries  were  already  at  work  in  the 
new  lands,  the  former  searching  for  treasure  and  the 
latter  for  souls. 

In  Rome  St.  Peter's  was  rising  like  the  body  of  the 
Renaissance.  What  was  the  Rome  of  the  time? 
Ranke  says  of  it  that  it  was  a  splendid  city,  indeed. 
"Here,"  he  says,  "the  mechanic  found  employment, 
the  artist  honor,  and  safety  was  assured  to  all." 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

Julius  II  effected  many  changes:  it  was  a  different 
community  from  that  in  which  Caesar  Borgia  had 
swaggered  with  his  tiger  strength  and  tiger  spirit,  his 
sword  and  dagger  and  poison,  so  short  a  time  before. 
A  wise  and  just  government,  a  market  for  the  wares 
and  a  field  for  the  talent  of  every  man,  security  for  his 
person  and  property  and  encouragement  for  his  ge- 
nius— such  a  city  Pope  Leo  X  received  from  the  hands 
of  his  warlike  predecessor. 

John  de'  Medici,  son  of  Lorenzo  the  Magnificent, 
boyhood  friend  of  Ariosto,  a  brave  soldier  under 
Julius  before  he  was  ordained  a  priest,  a  courtly, 
learned,  gracious  man — such  was  the  new  pope. 
Ranke  says  he  was  full  of  kindness  and  ready  sym- 
pathies. One  ambassador  writes  home  to  his  sovereign 
that  Leo  is  "a  good  man,  avoiding  disorders" ;  another 
says  in  his  despatches,  "He  is  a  scholar  and  a  lover  of 
learning;  a  good  priest,  if  he  enjoys  life."  His  elec- 
tion could  not  but  increase  the  prestige  of  the  Holy 
City.  Men  of  science  and  artists  flocked  there,  sure 
of  the  patronage  of  this  enlightened  pope.  He  was 
passionately  fond  of  music,  and  the  poets  and  com- 
posers of  the  day  found  no  prince  as  generous  as  the 
head  of  the  church. 

Meanwhile,  as  even  monarchs  must  die,  there  are 
new  names  in  the  royal  directory  of  Europe.  Henry 
VIII  has  ascended  the  English  throne.  Maximilian 
still  rules  the  German  empire,  but  in  a  short  year  he  is 
to  give  place  to  the  great  emperor  Charles  V  of  the 
house  of  Austria,  whose  sceptre  is  to  be  supreme  in 
Austria,  Germany,  Spain,  the  Netherlands,  and 
Naples,  conquest  and  fortunate  marriages  having 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

brought  all  these  crowns  to  one  head.  The  chivalrous 
Francis  I  is  on  the  throne  of  France,  in  Denmark  and 
Sweden  there  rules  a  butcher  and  tyrant,  Christian  II, 
who  rids  himself  of  his  Swedish  enemies  by  hav- 
ing them  slain  at  a  banquet,  an  incident  execrated  in 
Swedish  history  under  the  title  of  "The  Bloody  Bath." 
Gustavus  Vasa  is  preparing  to  free  Sweden  from  his 
thrall.  One  of  the  great  lords  of  the  German  Empire 
is  the  elector  Frederick  of  Saxony,  the  patron  and 
friend  of  a  daring  and  eloquent  Augustinian  monk, 
Martin  Luther. 

Enterprising  gentlemen  are  these  princes,  all  of 
them.  Not  a  single  royal  breast  in  Europe  but  holds 
a  boundless  ambition.  Not  a  single  monarch  of  the 
lot  who  is  not  proud,  imperious,  impatient  of  check. 
Among  them  a  Julius  II  might  hold  his  own  politi- 
cally, but  not  a  Leo  X. 

In  spite  of  his  birth  and  training,  I  doubt  if  Leo 
understood  the  political  spirit  of  his  age.  The  learn- 
ing and  the  art,  what  illuminated  the  mind  and  stirred 
the  love  of  beauty — these  he  knew  well;  but  the 
coarser  emotions  and  impulses  that  moved  the  powers 
remote  from  Rome  were  not  within  the  circumfer- 
ence of  his  knowledge.  He  was  learned  in  the  direc- 
tion of  his  tastes,  and  his  tastes  were  not  for  practical 
politics.  Even  to  the  day  of  his  death  he  was  blind  to 
the  significance  of  the  Lutheran  movement — he 
thought  it  but  a  mere  monkish  quarrel  in  Ger- 
many between  the  Augustinian  and  the  Dominican 
orders. 

But  what  Leo  failed  to  see  the  ambitious  princes  did 
not  fail  to  see.  "Throughout  the  whole  period  of 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

time  that  we  are  contemplating,"  Ranke  declares, 
"there  was  no  assistance  so  much  desired  by  the  tem- 
poral sovereigns  in  their  disputes  with  the  popes  as 
that  of  a  spiritual  opposition  to  their  decrees.  .  .  .  The 
mere  fact  that  so  fearless  a  foe  to  the  popedom  had 
made  his  appearance,  the  very  existence  of  such  a 
phenomenon,  was  highly  significant,  and  imparted  to 
the  person  of  the  reformer  a  decided  political  impor- 
tance. It  was  thus  that  Maximilian,  the  German  em- 
peror, considered  it;  nor  would  he  permit  injury  of 
any  kind  to  be  offered  to  this  monk ;  he  caused  him  to 
be  specially  recommended  to  the  Elector  of  Saxony — 
'there  might  come  a  time  when  he  would  be  needed' 
— and  from  that  moment  the  influence  of  Luther  in- 
creased day  by  day." 

"The  time  when  he  would  be  needed"  came,  indeed ; 
but  Maximilian  was  dead :  it  was  his  successor  Charles 
V  who  was  to  turn  to  political  account  the  great  re- 
former, although  many  a  prince  outside  Germany  and 
in  Germany  employed  for  his  own  purposes  then  and 
afterward  the  movement  the  doctor  of  Wittenberg 
shaped  and  launched.  Leo  devoted  his  life  mainly  to 
the  encouragement  of  art  and  letters  and  the  construc- 
tion of  St.  Peter's.  Political  matters  seem  to  have 
been  a  bother  of  which  he  rid  himself  with  as  little 
trouble  as  possible.  He  did  drive  the  French  out  of 
Italy  when  his  Swiss  defeated  the  forces  of  Louis  XII 
at  Novara,  but  when  the  high-spirited  Francis  I  swept 
back  across  the  Alps  and  worsted  the  Swiss  on  the 
field  of  Marignano  in  1515,  the  pope  hastened  to  meet 
him  at  Bologna  and  to  make  that  peace  which  gave  to 
the  French  monarch  the  duchies  of  Parma  and  Pla- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

centia,  and,  what  was  more  important,  renewed  the 
right  of  the  nomination  of  French  bishops.  Toward 
the  close  of  his  pontificate  Leo  again  took  measures 
against  the  French,  and  it  was  in  the  midst  of  the 
celebration  of  the  victory  of  the  papal  forces  that  a 
mortal  sickness  struck  him  down. 

Meanwhile  Luther's  fierce  protest  against  glaring 
abuses  was  rousing  the  German  states.  While  the 
humanists  hailed  him  gladly  as  a  champion  of  in- 
tellectual freedom,  and  the  churches  in  which  he 
preached  were  crowded  with  the  common  people,  who 
were  thrilled  by  the  thunderous  eloquence  which  was 
in  so  great  a  degree  his  gift,  the  princes  and  nobles 
were  taking  advantage  of  the  public  opinion  he 
created  to  divert  to  their  own  coffers  the  funds  that 
had  formerly  gone  to  the  church,  and  to  add  to  their 
own  domains  the  broad  acres  it  had  acquired.  The 
nobility,  and  many  priests  and  bishops,  tasted  abso- 
lute freedom  and  found  it  sweet:  numbers  of  the 
Teutonic  Knights  followed  the  advice  Luther  gave 
them  in  his  letter  to  the  grand  master  of  their  monas- 
tic order,  and  took  wives  and  church  property  at  the 
same  time.  Where  Luther's  personal  influence  was 
felt,  where  that  attribute  which  the  phraseology  of 
our  day  calls  personal  magnetism  could  exert  its  in- 
definable but  mighty  influence,  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  peasantry  were  also  affected;  but  it  is  very 
doubtful  if  the  Reformation  made  much  progress  at 
this  time  except  among  the  princes,  nobles,  and 
schoolmen. 

Macaulay  says  that  its  fiftieth  year  saw  Protestant- 
ism at  high  tide,  but  it  is  plain  that  he  was  considering 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

only  its  political  extension,  the  area  covered  by  those 
states  in  which  it  controlled  the  ruling  powers.  My 
own  opinion  is  that  its  actual  numerical  strength 
among  the  common  people  was  greater  at  a  later  pe- 
riod. Much  has  been  said  of  the  influence  of  the 
printing-press  in  stimulating  the  revolt,  of  the  influ- 
ence of  that  hurricane  of  pamphlets  which  the  reform- 
ers let  loose  upon  Europe;  but  it  must  be  remembered 
that  the  illiterate  were  then  the  great  majority,  upon 
whom  the  printing-press  could  not  have  much  influ- 
ence. It  was  example  and  coercion  that  did  the  work 
in  the  lower  ranks,  the  example  of  pastors  to  whom 
the  people  were  accustomed  to  look  for  spiritual  guid- 
ance, and  the  pressure  of  the  secular  powers  whom 
they  were  accustomed  to  see  enforcing  the  observance 
of  religion. 

Macaulay  is  right,  however,  with  regard  to  the  po- 
litical power  of  the  Protestant  movement.  The  spoil 
of  the  church  had  created  a  new  interest,  and  that  in- 
terest was  in  the  ruling  class.  It  was  that  influence 
that  now  gave  to  Protestantism  a  very  considerable 
political  power.  Charles  V,  although  he  never  pro- 
fessed other  than  the  Catholic  faith,  did  not  hesitate 
to  use  the  conditions  created  by  the  Reformation 
as  a  club  in  his  political  complications  with  the 
Roman  State.  After  the  death  of  Leo,  the  cardinals 
elected  as  pope  a  bishop  of  the  Netherlands  who  was 
famed  all  over  Christendom  for  his  intense  piety  and 
personal  purity  of  life.  His  brief  pontificate  was  sad- 
dened by  the  political  difficulties  of  the  Roman  State 
and  the  successes  of  the  Turkish  arms.  In  France, 
Francis  I  was  preparing  to  descend  again  upon  Italy, 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

and  the  Crescent  achieved  bloody  triumphs  at  Bel- 
grade and  Rhodes.  In  the  shadow  of  the  coming 
storm  he  ended  his  days. 

Giulio  de'  Medici,  a  nephew  of  Leo  X,  succeeded 
Adrian  as  pope.  He  assumed  the  name  of  Clement 
VII,  and  it  was  about  his  mitred  head  that  the  storm 
broke  in  all  its  fury.  Although  he  had  been  a  warm 
friend  of  Charles  V,  the  plans  of  the  latter  with  regard 
to  the  extension  of  the  imperial  power  over  Italy  soon 
grieved  the  heart  of  the  pontiff.  Italy  was  filled  with 
the  Spanish  forces  of  the  emperor,  and  the  Spanish 
pride  was  then  at  its  height:  they  were  arrogant  war- 
riors, indeed,  who  represented  the  imperial  power  to 
the  exasperated  Italians.  Venice  was  becoming  alarmed 
at  the  proximity  of  a  too  powerful  and  enterprising 
neighbor ;  everywhere  the  Italian  princes  were  resent- 
ful of  the  oppression  under  which  they  lay.  With  the 
murmuring  princes  Clement  entered  into  an  under- 
standing ;  the  dream  of  a  free  Italy  took  possession  of 
the  Italian  mind.  General  Pescara,  the  Italian-born 
Spaniard  who  commanded  the  forces  of  Charles,  was 
approached,  but  he  scornfully  rejected  the  Italian  ad- 
vances and  informed  the  emperor  of  the  plans  being 
matured.  The  revolt  of  Milan  gave  confirmation  to 
his  tidings,  the  imperial  troops  were  driven  back, 
Venice  and  Rome  announced  their  combination,  and 
from  foreign  states  jealous  of  the  power  of  Charles 
came  promises  of  assistance.  England,  Switzerland, 
and  France  were  to  send  their  soldiers  to  the  succor  of 
Italy.  Italian  hope  grew  high  and  bright;  it  was  be- 
lieved that  even  without  the  aid  of  the  friendly  powers 
the  object  of  the  movement  would  be  achieved;  the 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

reign  of  a  second  Julius  was  everywhere  expected. 
Giberto  expresses  the  feeling  in  Rome.  "This  war," 
he  says,  "is  to  decide  whether  Italy  shall  be  free." 

Meanwhile  the  princes  of  Germany  are  meeting  at 
Spires.  Ferdinand,  duke  of  Austria,  presides  in  the 
emperor's  stead.  Feeling  against  the  pope  runs  high, 
the  princes  take  advantage  of  it  to  bring  forward  the 
religious  issue.  Saxony,  Hesse,  and  other  principali- 
ties declare  for  Protestantism.  In  behalf  of  the  em- 
peror, Ferdinand  signs  a  resolution  decreeing  that 
each  prince  shall  decide  for  himself  what  the  faith  of 
his  subjects  shall  be.  Joyfully  now  the  princes  repay 
the  imperial  power;  they  give  to  Charles  the  troops 
and  supplies  he  needs.  Alva  was  afterward  to  let  his 
Catholicity  temper  the  rigor  of  warfare  against  a 
pope,  but  it  was  no  such  leader  that  Charles  V  sent 
forth  against  Clement  VII.  In  November,  1526, 
George  Frundberg  crossed  the  Alps  with  a  host  of 
Lutheran  lanzknechts  who  were  to  take  their  pay 
where  they  might  find  it,  and  the  threat  on  Frund- 
berg's  lips  was  that  when  he  got  to  Rome  he  would 
hang  the  pope. 

The  Italian  resistance  was  but  a  mist  the  fiery  hur- 
ricane blew  away.  Frundberg's  progress  through 
Italy  was  a  series  of  easy  successes.  The  promised  aid 
from  foreign  sources  was  withheld,  and  only  five  hun- 
dred armed  men  awaited  the  charge  of  the  fierce  in- 
vaders outside  the  gates  of  the  Holy  City.  Frundberg 
was  stricken  and  helpless — a  furious  rage  at  some  of 
his  mutinous  subordinates  had  burst  a  blood-vessel  in 
his  brain — and  Bourbon  led  the  Germans.  The  little 
band  of  defenders  was  overwhelmed  in  the  first  rush- 

CI433 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

ing  charge  of  the  Lutheran  squadrons,  who  now 
pressed  on  to  assail  the  poorly  manned  walls.  With 
his  foot  on  a  scaling-ladder,  Bourbon  received  his 
death- wound,  and  the  leaderless  horde,  whose  pay  was 
to  be  the  spoil  of  the  richest  city  in  the  world,  swept 
on  to  unchecked  pillage  in  the  great  depository  of  all 
that  was  most  splendid  in  art  and  most  valuable  in 
gold  and  gems.  Treasure  of  incalculable  worth  fell 
into  the  hands  of  those  rude  invaders :  the  splendor  of 
the  Eternal  City  was  submerged  that  day  in  an  inun- 
dation from  whose  effects  it  took  centuries  to  emerge. 
Thus  died  Pope  Clement's  dream  of  a  free  Italy  bul- 
warking an  unhampered  church;  thus  did  a  German 
emperor  use  for  his  own  purposes  the  physical  force 
of  the  Reformation. 

The  physical  church  lay  now  in  the  mailed  hand  of  a 
secular  prince.  Clement  had  stood  siege  in  his  castle 
awhile,  but  at  last  had  surrendered  to  the  emperor; 
and  Charles  rejoiced,  as  Philip  the  Fair  of  France  had 
once  rejoiced,  in  the  prospect  of  shaping  ecclesiastical 
policy  to  his  personal  ends.  Clement  was  under  no 
illusions,  he  felt  the  power  and  divined  the  purpose, 
and  he  resisted  with  all  his  strength  the  pressure 
Charles  brought  to  bear  on  him  to  call  a  general  coun- 
cil which  under  the  circumstances  must  be  wholly  at 
the  mercy  of  the  victorious  prince.  Charles,  on  his 
side,  was  willing  to  make  some  concessions,  particu- 
larly as  they  harmonized  with  his  worldly  policy.  The 
Reformation  had  been  used,  but  now  the  church  was 
to  be  used ;  and  if  it  was  to  be  the  instrument  of  im- 
perial power — why,  the  stronger  its  influence  the 
more  effective  an  instrument  would  it  make.  Simul- 

[1443 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

taneously,  the  peace  with  the  pope  was  proclaimed 
and  the  outlawry  of  Luther  decreed.  Many  thought- 
ful historians  doubt  the  sincerity  of  Charles  with  re- 
gard to  this  last  decree  of  the  Diet  of  Worms.  It  is 
true  that  no  effort  was  made  by  the  imperial  gov- 
ernment to  seek  out  Luther  while  the  latter  was 
concealed  by  powerful  political  friends  whose  under- 
standing with  Charles  was  excellent.  The  pope  was 
informed  that  Luther  was  dead,  and  the  report,  gain- 
ing general  circulation,  reached  the  Germans  in  the 
form  of  an  accusation  of  assassination  against  the 
agents  of  Rome. 

Meanwhile  the  perplexities  of  Clement  were  driv- 
ing him  into  an  alliance  with  Francis,  the  old  enemy 
of  his  house.  The  French  king,  while  adhering  to  the 
old  religion,  was  deep  in  combinations  with  the  po- 
litical powers  of  the  new.  He  hoped  to  make  them  his 
instruments  in  holding  the  house  of  Austria  in  check, 
and  with  his  concurrence  the  formidable  Protestant 
leader,  the  landgrave  Philip  of  Hesse,  restored  his 
duchy  to  the  Duke  of  Wittenberg,  whom  Ferdinand 
of  Austria  had  dispossessed.  The  duke  promptly 
made  Wittenberg  Protestant,  and  Ferdinand  as 
promptly  surrendered  his  claim  to  it  and  made  an 
alliance  with  the  landgrave,  much  to  the  chagrin  of 
the  French  monarch. 

The  powers  of  the  North,  no  less  than  those  of  the 
South,  found  the  religious  movement  of  value.  Gus- 
tavus  Vasa  drove  the  tyrant  Christian  out  of  Sweden 
and  used  the  royal  power  his  successful  rebellion  gave 
him  to  seize  the  church  lands  and  church  treasures 
and  introduce  Lutheranism  as  the  state  religion,  so 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

that  his  possession  thereof  might  be  considered 
proper  and  legitimate.  The  bloody-minded  Christian 
did  no  less :  he  laid  his  hand  on  ecclesiastical  property 
and  made  the  new  religion  the  state  religion  of  Den- 
mark with  the  bayonets  of  foreign  mercenaries. 
Henry  VIII  of  England,  refused  a  divorce  by  Pope- 
Clement,  decreed  a  separation  of  the  English  church 
from  that  of  Rome  and  constituted  an  ecclesiastical 
tribunal  which  would  legitimize  his  union  with  fair 
Anne  Boleyn.  The  Palatinate  followed  the  example 
of  other  German  principalities  and  embraced  the 
teachings  of  Luther. 

Everywhere  the  change  in  creed  was  accompanied 
by  the  pillage  of  church  properties.  A  new  and  easy 
road  to  wealth  had  been  opened  to  an  impoverished 
aristocracy,  and  they  trod  it  joyfully. 

If  the  common  people  thought  the  ruling  class  had 
any  idea  of  the  extension  of  the  right  of  private  judg- 
ment below  the  aristocratic  order — and  beyond  doubt 
there  were  places  where  they  did  so  believe — they 
were  soon  to  suffer  a  bloody  disillusionment.  The 
resolution  of  the  Diet  of  Spires  permitted  each  prince 
to  determine  the  religious  complexion  of  his  province : 
it  was  by  no  means  intended  that  each  peasant  and 
burgher  should  think  for  himself.  The  political  power 
of  the  day  could  endure  neither  authority  above  nor 
freedom  below ;  for  if  the  peasants  could  take  from  the 
nobles  what  the  nobles  took  from  the  church,  where 
would  the  profit  be?  Thomas  Munzer,  the  Lutheran 
pastor  of  Zwickau,  found  that  private  judgment  had 
its  social  limitations,  indeed :  Luther  himself  cried  out 
for  the  extermination  of  the  revolting  serfs  whom 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

Miinzer  led  in  that  merciless  struggle  written  red  in 
history  as  the  Peasants'  War;  and  when  the  last 
stronghold  of  the  rebels  had  been  taken  and  John  of 
Leyden,  the  strange  king  of  that  strange  kingdom, 
was  in  the  hands  of  the  Protestant  powers,  John  and 
his  associates  in  that  Protestant  movement  were 
"killed  with  hot  pincers"  with  full  Protestant  ap- 
proval. Nor  was  it  alone  their  own  German  nobles 
who  thus  sternly  repressed  the  right  of  private  judg- 
ment when  those  not  of  their  order  sought  to  exercise 
it.  Wherever  they  went,  the  Protestant  secular  power 
killed  them  with  cruelty:  Henry  VIII  in  England 
burned  at  the  stake  ten  of  the  unfortunate  Anabap- 
tists. 

Princes  were  guided  with  regard  to  religion  al- 
most entirely  by  political  considerations,  and  these 
often  of  the  most  personal  and  selfish  nature.  Philip 
II  of  Spain  was  an  ardent  Catholic  monarch.  Why? 
Hilaire  Belloc  points  out  that  Spain  was  the  only  coun- 
try of  Europe  where  Protestantism  was  absolutely 
unknown,  and  he  attributes  this  fact  to  the  other  fact 
that  when  the  Reformation  came  Spain  still  had  a 
throbbing  memory  of  its  tremendous  struggle  to  ex- 
pel the  Moors.  It  could  still  feel  the  tingle  of  hand- 
grips with  the  Mohammedan;  the  old  war-cries, 
"Jesu!"  and  "Maria!"  for  Spain,  and  "Allah  il  Allah!" 
for  the  Moors,  still  echoed  over  fields  of  national 
glory.  The  conflict  had  blended  Catholic  enthusiasm 
with  the  national  spirit  of  the  people.  What  chance 
would  a  monarch  of  an  Austrian  house  have  had  with 
a  martial  people  whose  religion  was  indistinguish- 
able from  their  patriotism,  had  he  set  his  face  against 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

that  religion?  Charles  V  knew  well  what  he  was 
doing  when  he  sent  the  German  troops  to  war  against 
the  pope  and  left  his  splendid  Spanish  soldiers  unem- 
ployed in  that  great  enterprise. 

In  every  land  politics  made  use  of  religion.  Philip 
found  it  convenient  in  Spain  to  be  a  Catholic  cham- 
pion. In  England  Henry  had  seized  the  church  ma- 
chinery to  make  it  serve  his  headlong  passion,  but  the 
passion  and  the  means  whereby  he  gratified  it  com- 
bined to  produce  political  consequences  of  the  gravest 
importance.  It  was  not  without  difficulty  that  he  and 
the  school  of  politicians  whose  fortunes  were  based 
upon  the  service  of  his  pleasures  overthrew  the  old 
form  of  worship :  Hallam  tells  us  that  foreign  soldiers 
had  to  be  employed  to  force  the  Protestant  faith  on 
the  people  of  England.  It  was  upon  the  death  of 
Henry,  however,  that  the  matter  took  on  a  more 
definite  political  form.  He  had  left  three  children — 
the  princess  Mary,  daughter  of  Catherine  of  Aragon ; 
the  princess  Elizabeth,  daughter  of  Anne  Boleyn;  and 
Prince  Edward,  the  son  of  Jane  Seymour.  Two  of 
these,  Elizabeth  and  Edward,  the  Catholic  subjects 
considered  illegitimate.  But  the  band  of  courtiers  and 
politicians  who  had  enriched  themselves  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  ancient  church  had  the  most  pressing 
reasons  for  keeping  Mary  from  the  throne;  their 
wealth  and  even  their  personal  safety  depended  upon 
the  Protestant  succession.  Gathering  around  Lord 
Somerset,  the  brother  of  Jane  Seymour  and  the  uncle 
of  her  son,  they  elevated  Edward  VI  to  the  throne. 
Against  them  the  Catholic  faction  united,  their  hopes 
centred  upon  the  princess  Mary.  They  were  ready 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

when  the  boy  king  died,  and  before  Elizabeth  could  be 
proclaimed,  Mary  had  unfurled  her  banner  and,  sup- 
ported by  the  Catholic  leaders  and  a  popular  army, 
had  taken  her  crown.  And  now  the  Protestant  fac- 
tion, out  of  court  favor,  organized  its  forces  and 
planned  for  the  elevation  of  Elizabeth.  Joyfully  they 
hailed  her  accession,  enthusiastically  they  prepared 
to  avenge  themselves  on  their  political  foes.  There 
seemed  at  first  some  little  difficulty  with  the  queen 
herself:  her  hatred  of  married  priests,  and  other  predi- 
lections not  in  accord  with  the  Protestant  spirit,  indi- 
cate that  she  was  not  at  heart  a  very  cordial  lover  of 
the  new  religion,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  she  would  have 
served  the  purpose  of  the  Protestant  faction  could  she 
have  made  peace  with  Rome  on  her  own  terms.  She 
demanded  of  the  pope  an  acknowledgment  of  her 
legitimacy.  Her  right  to  the  crown  depended  on  that, 
and,  when  it  was  refused  to  her,  the  political  necessi- 
ties of  her  case  compelled  her  to  accept  the  leadership 
of  the  Protestant  party. 

But  now  that  party  had  become  the  national  party. 
Elizabeth's  illegitimacy  presumed  the  succession  to 
lie  in  Mary,  queen  of  Scotland  and  allied  by  marriage 
and  by  blood  to  France.  The  national  spirit  had 
borne  with  some  irritation  the  influence  of  the  Span- 
iard Philip  as  the  husband  of  the  late  queen  Mary,  and 
it  was  not  inclined  to  have  any  but  an  English  mon- 
arch. Thus  came  the  patriotism  of  England  to  rein- 
force that  faction  whose  interest  lay  in  the  Protestant 
succession. 

And  nothing  was  left  undone  to  strengthen  the 
combination;  every  effort  was  made  to  create  a  public 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

abhorrence  of  Rome.  The  wildest  calumnies  were 
preached,  the  baldest  forgeries  perpetrated;  sedu- 
lously did  the  politicians  labor  until  there  was  created 
that  spirit  of  hatred  which  could  endure  no  beauty  and 
no  joy  because  these  things  were  held  to  be  Romish 
and  therefore  abhorrent.  The  Catholic  politicians 
fought  as  bitterly  to  offset  this  agitation,  but  in  vain; 
the  circumstances  of  the  time  conspired  to  make  their 
task  impossible.  Philip  of  Spain,  who  disliked  the 
English  as  much  as  they  disliked  him,  meditated  the 
conquest  of  the  insular  kingdom.  The  people  rallied 
to  the  support  of  the  Protestant  leaders,  whose  for- 
tunes were  now  the  fortunes  of  England.  They  were 
assured  that  the  proposed  invasion  was  due  to  the 
machinations  of  Rome.  Now  while  it  is  true  that  the 
pope  hailed  with  joy  a  project  which  would,  if  success- 
ful, restore  England  to  the  church,  it  is  true  also  that 
Philip  had  personal  and  political  motives  which  would 
have  stirred  him  if  there  had  been  no  religious  con- 
sideration at  all.  No  more  haughty  monarch  wore  a 
crown,  and  there  had  been  insults  while  he  was  in 
England  that  left  old  scores  to  settle.  Then  there 
were  Drake  and  those  bold  marauders  who  made 
piracy  the  calling  of  an  English  gentleman  at  the  ex- 
pense of  Spanish  commerce.  How  bitter  must  have 
been  the  irritation  of  a  proud  and  mighty  prince 
whose  treasure-ships  were  plundered  and  sunk  in  the 
very  seas  that  Spanish  enterprise  had  opened  to  the 
navigators  of  the  world!  The  tongue  we  speak  has 
carried  down  to  us  an  admiration  for  those  bold  toll- 
takers  of  the  wave,  but  in  Spain  at  that  time  they  were 
regarded  as  plain  thieves  and  murderers,  and  the  in- 

£150!] 


THE  GHOST  OF  A  SPANISH  KING 

sular  kingdom  that  sent  them  forth  as  a  nest  of  pirates 
no  more  respectable  than  the  states  of  the  Barbary 
coast.  Europe  shared  the  impression  of  them  held  by 
Spain;  Ranke  speaks  of  them  as  the  "bold  corsairs" 
who  gathered  in  to  defend  their  island  home  when  the 
Armada  threatened  it. 

But  although  the  Protestant  party  had  gained  a 
great  advantage,  there  was  still  a  powerful  Catholic 
party  whose  traditions  and  machinery  were  later  to 
pass  into  the  Jacobite  party,  as  in  this  Republic  the 
machinery  and  traditions  of  the  old  Whig  party 
passed  into  the  Republican  party;  and  the  bitterness 
of  the  political  struggle  between  the  two  generated  a 
bitter  prejudice  which  has  been  bequeathed  to  our 
country  and  our  generation.  It  was  necessary  for  the 
dominant  faction  to  keep  the  "raw  head  and  bloody 
bones"  ever  before  the  eyes  of  the  people  in  order  to 
insure  their  devotion  to  the  "Protestant  succession." 
When  America  was  settled  the  battle  was  still  on. 
French  and  Spanish  America  and  English  and  Dutch 
America  still  had  to  fight  it  out. 

But  long  before  the  Revolution  the  fight  had  ended ; 
only  the  prejudice  remained.  The  devotion  of  Cath- 
olic Maryland  to  the  patriot  cause,  and  the  help  of 
Catholic  France,  mitigated  but  did  not  eradicate  it. 
Succeeding  events  have  "softened"  it,  but  it  still  re- 
mains. Although  the  storms  of  four  centuries  ago 
destroyed  and  dispersed  "the  Invincible  Armada"  in 
distant  seas,  the  dread  of  it  and  the  hate  of  it  control 
the  school  policy  of  America  to-day.  The  political 
rancor  of  the  fifteenth  century  has  power  still  to  com- 
pel a  nation  believing  in  God  and  democracy  to  turn 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

its  youth  over  to  materialism  and  Socialism.  Between 
us  and  our  best  interests  as  a  state  rises  the  ghost  of  a 
Spanish  king  who  died  in  1598,  and  we  cannot  see 
through  it 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

MEYERBEER'S  grand  opera,  "The  Hugue- 
nots," has  an  intensely  dramatic  scene.    It 
pictures  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  blessing 
the  French  daggers  that  were  to  do  the  bloody  work 
of  St.  Bartholomew's  Day.    That  scene,  one  of  the 
most  impressive  in  the  brilliant  opera,  has  had  much 
to  do  with  the  quite  general  Protestant  belief  that  the 
Catholic  Church  instigated,  and  through  its  agents 
carried  out,  the  slaughter  of  Protestants  in  France 
that  was  begun  in  Paris  on  August  24, 1572. 

From  what  historical  authority,  from  what  in  the 
form  of  record  or  tradition,  did  Scribe,  who  wrote  the 
libretto  of  "The  Huguenots,"  take  the  inspiration  for 
this  great  stage  picture?  No  historian  of  that  time, 
Protestant  or  Catholic,  made  mention  of  any  such 
occurrence.  The  written  record  is  that  at  the  time  of 
the  massacre,  and  for  some  time  before  and  some  time 
after,  the  Cardinal  of  Lorraine  was  far  from  France : 
he  was  in  Rome  attending  a  conclave  of  cardinals  as- 
sembled for  the  election  of  a  pope.  Whence,  then,  did 
Scribe  get  the  idea  of  this  scene?  From  the  literature 
of  the  theatre,  from  another  stage  production,  the 
frankly  admitted  invention  of  the  Revolutionary  poet 
Chenier,  came  this  terrific  arraignment  that  has  ex- 
cited the  honest  horror  of  millions  who  believe  it  to 
be  based  upon  the  facts  of  history.  The  play  was 

t 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

"Charles  IX,"  presented  for  the  first  time  in  Paris  in 
1798,  at  which  time  Chenier  published  a  "Dedicatory 
Address  to  the  French  People,"  containing  this  expla- 
nation : 

"At  the  time  of  the  massacre  the  Cardinal  of  Lor- 
raine was  in  Rome.  I  do  not  think  it  is  right  to  change 
history;  but  I  think  it  is  allowable,  in  an  historical 
tragedy,  to  invent  certain  incidents,  provided  the 
privilege  be  used  with  moderation." 

But  the  explanation  is  not  read  now,  and,  except  by 
students  of  history,  has  been  little  read  at  any  time ; 
while  deep  in  the  souls  of  men  has  been  printed  the 
picture  of  the  Catholic  cardinal  blessing  the  blades  for 
the  day  of  blood,  and  in  their  ears  have  rung  his 
words : 

"A  humble  and  docile  son  of  the  immortal  church, 
and  made  a  priest  of  the  living  God  by  her  hands,  I 
am  able  to  interpret  the  divine  decrees.  If  your  souls 
are  filled  with  a  burning  zeal  to  devote  themselves  to 
the  interests  of  Heaven,  if  you  bring  to  murder  re- 
ligious hearts,  you  will  accomplish  a  tremendous  task. 
Serve  well  the  God  of  nations,  all  of  whose  blessings 
I  now  shower  upon  you!  Know  that  in  heaven  God 
now  breaks  the  chain  of  your  iniquities:  by  the  God 
who  inspires  me,  I  declare  the  forgiveness  of  what- 
ever crimes  you  have  ever  committed.  When  the 
church  impressed  on  my  soul  her  ineffaceable  mark, 
she  forbade  me  to  shed  even  the  most  guilty  blood: 
but  I  shall  follow  in  your  path,  and  in  the  name  of  the 
avenging  God  I  shall  direct  your  blows.  Warriors, 
whom  divine  Providence  is  about  to  lead;  ministers  of 
justice,  chosen  by  his  prudence;  it  is  now  time  to  ac- 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

complish  the  eternal  decrees.  Bathe  yourselves  holily 
in  the  blood  of  the  wicked !" 

These  words  were  never  uttered  by  the  great 
prelate  of  the  house  of  Guise;  there  was  no  blessing 
of  the  daggers.  In  France,  as  elsewhere,  the  so-called 
"wars  of  religion"  were  caused  by  politics — by  the 
selfish  and  corrupt  politics  of  kingcraft,  that  were  the 
same  essentially  as  the  politics  of  the  Tweed  Ring  in 
New  York  City,  and  of  other  corrupt  political  cabals 
in  other  cities  only  too  familiar  to  modern  American 
thought.  More  than  once,  in  the  article  dealing  with 
the  Huguenots,  is  this  expressly  stated  by  the  Ameri- 
can Cyclopaedia,  published  in  1869,  and  edited  by 
George  Ripley  and  Charles  A.  Dana. 

"The  Reformation,  which  was  far  from  being  en- 
tirely religious  even  in  Germany,"  says  this  work, 
"was  much  more  the  result  of  secular  and  local  causes 
in  France."  And  again,  "It  was  during  the  reign  of 
Henry  II  that  the  Huguenots  gathered  such  strength 
as  to  entertain  hopes  of  becoming  the  dominant  po- 
litical party." 

Indeed,  the  political  powers  of  France  were  at  that 
time  more  than  half  Protestant;  the  younger  branch 
of  the  reigning  house  of  Bourbon  was  wholly  so.  It 
was  in  the  masses  of  the  population  that  Catholicity 
kept  a  predominating  strength;  the  same  peasant  sen- 
timent that  later  was  to  bar  the  popular  and  victorious 
Henry  of  Navarre  from  the  throne  until  he  bowed  the 
knee  in  the  Catholic  Church  made  it  the  part  of  po- 
litical wisdom  for  Francis  I  to  adhere  to  the  old 
church,  at  war  though  he  might  be  with  the  Papal 
States  and  allied,  as  he  was,  with  the  Protestant  pow- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

era  outside  his  own  kingdom.  In  the  day  of  Francis, 
no  court  in  Europe  was  as  gay  as  that  of  his  sister,  the 
famous  Margaret  of  Navarre.  Around  her  was  a 
revelling,  witty,  and  anything  but  devout  society :  her 
ladies  blushed  and  giggled  over  those  tales  of  light 
love  in  which  the  keen  but  unclean  mind  of  Boccaccio 
delighted;  and  the  butt  of  every  ribald  joke  was  the 
monk  or  the  sacraments  of  the  church.  From  the  first 
the  sympathy  of  the  vivacious  Margaret  went  out  to 
the  assailants  of  the  church.  Her  court  became  their 
refuge.  Farel,  who  did  so  much  to  establish  the 
Genevan  state  on  the  basis  of  the  new  theology,  was 
one  of  her  favorites;  to  her  fled  John  Calvin  when 
Cop's  preaching  in  the  Sorbonne  of  the  sermon  he 
wrote  made  flight  from  Paris  the  part  of  prudence  for 
preacher  and  author.  Here  were  brought  up  Jeanne 
d'Albret,  the  mother  of  Henry  IV,  and  the  Bourbons 
of  the  younger  branch — Antoine,  afterward  a  Navar- 
rese  king,  and  Louis,  the  Prince  of  Conde,  soon  to  be 
the  gallant  military  chieftain  of  the  Protestant  fac- 
tion. These  younger  Bourbons  could  not  but  despise 
the  physically  and  mentally  weak  children  of  Cathe- 
rine de'  Medici,  who  stood  between  them  and  the 
throne  of  France;  they  ever  entertained  the  hope  of 
gaining  that  mighty  sceptre,  and  they  bore  a  deadly 
hatred  toward  the  Guises,  whose  matrimonial  alliance 
with  the  older  branch  was  productive  of  an  influence 
in  the  government  of  the  realm  of  which  those  bold 
and  enterprising  politicians  took  full  measure  of  ad- 
vantage. 

In  the  reign  of  Henry  II,  the  husband  of  Catherine 
de'  Medici,  this  political  force  was  gathering  head.    It 

CI563 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

found  a  ready  ally  in  the  queen,  who  was  thoroughly 
in  sympathy  with  the  Rabelaisian  humor  of  the  court, 
in  so  far  as  it  turned  the  church  to  ridicule,  and  was 
eager  to  get  the  Guises  out  of  the  way  in  order  that 
she  might  sway,  through  the  weakness  of  her  son 
Francis,  the  government  of  France.  For  this  beauti- 
ful and  remarkable  Florentine  had  but  one  passion, 
and  that  was  for  power.  A  fastidiousness  or  a  politi- 
cal prudence  kept  her  personally  chaste,  but  she  was 
quite  willing  to  turn  the  moral  lapses  even  of  husband 
and  son  to  the  service  of  her  cold  policy;  she  shrank 
from  no  bloodshed  if  she  conceived  it  to  be  in  line 
with  her  purpose.  She  probably  held  all  religion  in 
contempt;  it  was  more  the  novelty  of  the  Lutheran 
creed  than  any  feeling  of  sympathy  with  it,  I  think, 
that  caused  her  to  enliven  her  meals  with  Protestant 
sermons,  as  Santa  Croce,  the  papal  nuncio,  com- 
plained in  his  reports. 

Nor  is  it  reasonable  to  think  that  this  woman  had 
any  friendship  for  the  younger  branch  of  her  hus- 
band's family,  or  any  intention  of  allowing  that 
branch  to  gain  a  decided  ascendancy.  The  common 
sentiment  that  brought  them  together  was  their  con- 
tempt for  Catherine's  sons,  and  their  fear  and  hatred 
of  the  house  of  Guise.  Frangois,  the  head  of  that 
ducal  family,  was  famous  as  a  captain  throughout 
Europe;  to  him  and  to  his  brother,  the  Cardinal  of 
Lorraine,  their  niece  Mary,  wife  of  Francis  II,  turned 
for  advice  and  protection.  The  young  king's  passion 
for  the  beautiful  Stuart,  who  was  later  to  reign  so 
unhappily  in  Scotland  and  to  lay  her  lovely  head  at 
the  last  on  the  block  in  England  because  of  too  plau- 

CIS73 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

sible  a  claim  to  the  throne  of  that  kingdom,  maddened 
Catherine,  who  found  her  influence  nullified  by  that  of 
the  valiant  Frangois.  Of  that  politician  she  deter- 
mined to  rid  herself  by  a  bold  stroke,  for  which  the 
strength  and  inclination  of  the  younger  Bourbons 
promised  to  furnish  the  means.  It  was  planned  by 
Catherine,  by  the  King  of  Navarre,  the  Prince  de 
Conde,  and  the  great  Protestant  lord  Coligny,  to  cap- 
ture and  imprison  the  young  king,  slay  the  Duke  of 
Guise,  and  establish  for  the  government  of  France  a 
regency  council  of  Huguenot  powers  under  the  leader- 
ship of  the  queen  mother. 

This  was  the  conspiracy  of  Amboise.  Its  exposure 
put  all  the  cards  in  the  hands  of  the  Guises — the 
duke  Frangois  and  Lorraine  were  more  than  ever  the 
protectors  and  advisers  of  the  monarch,  and  Cathe- 
rine, without  scruple,  abandoned  her  Protestant  allies 
and  professed  a  sudden  and  excessive  detestation  of 
heretics  and  as  sudden  and  remarkable  a  devotion  to 
the  house  of  Guise.  The  duke  did  not  press  his  advan- 
tage to  the  utmost;  he  was  quite  content  that  Francis 
should  know  who  the  conspirators  had  been  without 
subjecting  them  to  punishment.  Conde  he  did  humili- 
ate by  compelling  him  to  look  on  without  protest 
while  his  own  partisans  were  paying  in  blood  the  price 
that  Conde  himself  should  have  paid  for  that  treason. 

By  this  time  the  faith  of  the  French  Protestants 
had  been  organized  by  Calvin,  and  already  there  was 
bitterness  between  those  who  followed  the  French 
doctor  and  those  who  accepted  the  Lutheran  Confes- 
sion of  Augsburg.  The  princes  of  Navarre  were  the 
political  heads  of  the  Calvinist  movement,  and  the 

CI58] 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

Guises  sought  to  weaken  them  by  causing  the  tolera- 
tion in  France  of  Lutheran  Protestantism.  Bloody 
commotions  in  the  Protestant  ranks  followed,  and 
these  disturbances  of  the  peace  of  the  kingdom  did 
not  increase  the  reputation  of  the  Huguenots  among 
the  masses  of  Frenchmen.  Conde  was  at  the  forefront 
of  every  armed  uprising;  he  was  arrested  at  Orleans, 
charged  with  high  treason,  and  would  undoubtedly 
have  lost  his  head  had  it  not  been  for  the  sudden 
death  of  Francis  and  the  elevation  to  the  throne  of  his 
brother,  Charles  IX. 

For  the  moment  Catherine's  prospects  brightened : 
no  longer  was  Mary  Stuart's  white  hand  on  the 
sceptre,  no  longer  did  her  proud  uncles  exercise 
through  her  a  dominating  influence  over  the  court. 
The  first  move  of  the  new  king  was  to  pardon  the  foes 
of  the  house  of  Guise.  Conde  was  no  sooner  free  than 
he  took  the  field  at  the  head  of  his  faction,  and  carried 
on  open  war  until  the  Duke  of  Guise  defeated  him  on 
the  field  of  Drieux  and  took  him  prisoner. 

Soon,  however,  was  the  great  duke  to  pay  the  price 
of  princely  politics  in  those  times.  While  he  was  con- 
ducting the  siege  of  Orleans  he  was  treacherously 
shot  by  a  partisan  of  Admiral  Coligny,  and  his  family 
and  the  nation  at  large  laid  the  blame  of  his  assassina- 
tion on  the  shoulders  of  the  Protestant  leader.  His 
son,  Henry  of  Lorraine,  who  was  to  take  his  place  at 
the  head  of  the  house,  saw  him  fall,  and  over  his  body 
swore  an  oath  of  vengeance  against  the  admiral — an 
oath  which  he  lost  no  opportunity  of  fulfilling. 

The  wavering  policy  of  Charles,  who  swung  like  a 
pendulum  back  and  forth,  now  inclining  toward  the 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Guises  and  now  toward  the  Huguenots,  favored  at 
this  time  the  Protestant  leaders.  His  edict  of  Am- 
boise  freed  the  imprisoned  Conde,  who  took  imme- 
diate advantage  of  his  freedom  to  raise  his  banner 
once  more  and  claim  the  throne.  His  mints  printed 
coins  bearing  his  effigy  with  the  inscription,  "Louis 
XIII,  First  Christian  King  of  France."  He  very 
nearly  succeeded  in  capturing  the  king  and  queen  at 
Mieux,  but  the  royal  forces  overcame  him  at  St.  Denis, 
and  once  more  he  was  a  prisoner.  The  peace  of  Long- 
jumeau  gave  him  his  last  opportunity  to  rebel;  he 
fought  with  great  bravery  at  Jarnac,  and  was  shot  by 
an  officer  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou. 

Meanwhile  the  war  went  on  and  the  Huguenots 
called  to  their  aid  German  and  English  fellow-reli- 
gionists, while  the  Guises  began  to  receive  support 
from  Philip  of  Spain,  who  was  hopeful  of  gaining 
France  through  their  influence.  Young  Guise,  who 
had  received  his  baptism  of  fire  in  the  war  against  the 
Turks  in  Hungary  in  his  seventeenth  year,  pursued 
his  vendetta  relentlessly — at  Jarnac  and  Moncontour 
his  sword  was  reddened,  and  the  great  Coligny  had  to 
yield  to  his  bitterest  enemy  at  Poitiers.  When  Charles 
made  the  peace  of  St.  Germain,  Henry  had  to  abandon 
public  war  for  private  vengeance,  and  the  growing  in- 
fluence of  the  gallant  Coligny  with  King  Charles, 
the  agreement  that  the  two  branches  of  the  reigning 
house  should  be  united  by  the  marriage  of  Marguerite 
of  Valois,  sister  of  the  king,  to  Henry  of  Navarre,  the 
gallant  son  of  Jeanne  d'Albret,  foreshadowed  not 
only  the  ruin  of  the  Guises  but  the  relegation  of  the 
ambitious  queen  mother.  Bitter,  indeed,  were  the 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

hatreds  that  poisoned  the  atmosphere  of  the  French 
court  in  August  of  1572,  when  a  strange  society  as- 
sembled in  Paris.  Charles  was  for  the  time  all  for  his 
new  friends;  he  called  Coligny,  whose  grave  courtesy 
and  noble  bearing  made  a  deep  impression  upon  him, 
his  father.  Henry  of  Guise  beheld  with  hot  anger  in 
his  heart  the  elevation  in  esteem  and  influence  of  the 
man  he  believed  to  be  responsible  for  his  father's  as- 
sassination. Catherine,  shoved  to  one  side  by  the  new 
favorites,  who  hardly  tried  to  dissemble  their  con- 
tempt for  the  king  and  their  not  unjustified  suspicion 
of  those  who  surrounded  him,  took  counsel  with 
Prince  Henry,  later  to  be  the  King  of  Poland  and  still 
later  Henry  III  of  France,  and  between  them  was 
hatched  the  plot  for  the  killing  of  Coligny.  It  was 
through  young  Guise  they  worked.  Catherine's  plan, 
according  to  the  conjectures  of  many  historians,  was 
to  have  Guise  commit  the  crime  and  then  have  him 
beheaded  for  it ;  thus  at  one  stroke  ridding  herself  of 
her  two  principal  rivals.  The  conspiracy  missed  fire ; 
Guise's  bravo  wounded  but  did  not  kill  Coligny,  and 
Charles  IX  was  highly  incensed  at  the  attempt  upon 
the  life  of  his  new  favorite.  Catherine  was  now  truly 
alarmed ;  the  Protestant  nobles  were  in  bitter  and  re- 
bellious mood  and  kept  their  hands  on  their  swords  in 
the  royal  halls,  and  Charles  averted  his  face  from  her. 
To  save  herself  she  and  her  allies  forced  themselves 
into  the  presence  of  her  son  and  alarmed  him  with  the 
charge  of  a  Huguenot  conspiracy  aimed  at  his  throne 
and  life.  The  bearing  of  the  Huguenot  leaders  and 
their  record  lent  color  to  the  tale,  the  unsteady  mind  . 
of  the  monarch  was  filled  with  terror,  and  he  gave  his 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

consent  to  what  he  called  "the  execution"  of  the  lead- 
ders  of  the  conspiracy.  And  young  Guise  was  selected 
as  the  instrument  of  justice — Guise,  whose  heart  was 
panting  for  Coligny's  blood,  whose  future  fortune  de- 
pended on  the  suppression  of  the  Huguenot  power! 
He  had  made  his  preparations,  he  was  ready.  St. 
Bartholomew's  Day  blotched  redly  the  history  of 
France. 

How  many  died?  The  estimates  vary.  De  Thou 
says  30,000;  La  Popeliniere,  20,000;  Masson,  10,000; 
Lingard,  1,500.  The  author  of  the  Huguenot  mar- 
tyrology  gives  an  estimate  of  30,000,  but  when  he 
gives  the  figures  by  the  cities  and  towns  where  out- 
breaks occurred  they  total  15,168,  and  when  he  at- 
tempts a  roll  of  the  martyrs  of  St.  Bartholomew's 
Day,  he  brings  forth  the  names  of  768. 

And  now  what  part  did  the  church  play  in  all  this? 
The  story  that  flew  through  Protestant  Europe  was 
that  the  Catholic  Church  instigated  it;  that  from 
Rome  came  the  impulse;  that  the  massacre  was  long 
in  preparation,  the  marriage  but  a  lure  to  gather  to- 
gether the  heretics;  that  upon  its  consummation  the 
pope  ordered  a  Te  Deum  sung  in  celebration.  But  the 
record  is  all  against  this;  there  is  the  report  of  Sal- 
viati,  the  papal  nuncio,  written  in  cipher  to  the  cardi- 
nal secretary  of  state,  giving  the  details  of  Catherine's 
intrigue,  and  the  request  of  the  cardinal  secretary  for 
all  the  information  that  could  be  obtained.  It  is  a 
plain  story,  such  as  any  diplomatic  agent  might  send 
to  his  distant  government;  there  is  nothing  of  jubila- 
tion in  it,  nothing  to  indicate  that  religion  had  the 
slightest  part  in  it.  There  are  the  memoirs  of  Mar- 

[162:3 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

garet,  Charles's  sister,  and  the  statement  of  the  Duke 
of  Anjou,  his  brother,  to  his  physician,  all  to  the  effect 
that  the  plot  was  of  sudden  conception  and  due  to  the 
growing  ascendancy  of  Coligny  and  the  fear  enter- 
tained by  Catherine  and  others  of  the  consequences  of 
such  an  ascendancy.  The  Te  Deum  story  has  long 
had  its  simple  explanation.  Rome  was  celebrating  the 
great  victory  of  Lepanto  over  the  Turks,  and  in  the 
midst  of  the  celebration  came  the  version  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew which  Catherine's  prudence  invented;  it 
was  merely  that  the  king  had  escaped  assassination  at 
the  hands  of  heretics,  and  that  Conde  and  Navarre 
had  abandoned  the  Protestant  cause  and  accepted  the 
ancient  church.  For  that  was  the  Te  Deum  chanted 
in  Rome :  the  escape  of  a  Catholic  king  and  the  acces- 
sion of  two  powerful  princes.  Catherine's  courier  had 
beaten  the  courier  of  Salviati  in  the  race  from  Paris  to 
St.  Peter's. 

No  sensible  man  need  be  informed  of  the  danger  of 
letting  loose  a  mob.  The  report  that  the  rebel  Hugue- 
nots had  treacherously  attacked  the  king  went 
through  France,  and  those  who  are  always  willing  to 
profit  by  disorder  joyfully  took  advantage  of  the  op- 
portunity. There  is  plenty  of  contemporary  Protes- 
tant evidence  to  the  effect  that  even  Guise,  when 
Coligny  and  the  leaders  had  fallen,  rode  through 
Paris,  checking  the  murderous  spirit  to  which  he  him- 
self had  given  rein;  that  everywhere  respectable  Cath- 
olics sheltered  the  hunted  Protestants  from  the  mob. 
The  Catholic  bishop  of  Lisieux  opened  the  cathedral 
doors  to  the  refugees,  and  throughout  France  monas- 
teries and  convents  afforded  them  shelter.  Twice 

[1633 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  Protestant  forces  had  massacred  the  Catholics  of 
Nimes,  but  not  a  single  Protestant  was  molested  in 
that  city.  Catholic  France,  no  less  than  Protestant 
Europe,  was  horrified  at  the  effusion  of  blood:  but 
Catholic  France  knew  it  was  the  result  of  a  political 
intrigue;  Protestant  Europe  charged  it  up  to  religious 
persecution. 

And  this  is  the  final  cipher  despatch  which  Salviati, 
the  nuncio,  sent  to  Rome : 

"Time  will  show  whether  there  be  any  truth  in  all 
the  other  accounts  which  you  may  have  read  of  the 
wounding  and  death  of  the  admiral,  that  differ  from 
what  I  wrote  to  you.  The  queen  regent,  having  grown 
jealous  of  him,  came  to  a  resolution  a  few  days  before, 
and  caused  the  arquebuse  to  be  discharged  at  him 
without  the  knowledge  of  the  king,  but  with  the  par- 
ticipation of  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  of  the  Duchess  of 
Nemours,  and  of  her  son,  the  Duke  of  Guise.  Had  he 
died  immediately,  no  one  else  would  have  perished. 
But  he  did  not  die,  and  they  began  to  expect  some 
great  evil ;  wherefore,  closeting  themselves  in  consul- 
tation with  the  king,  they  determined  to  throw  shame 
aside,  and  to  cause  him  [Coligny]  to  be  assassinated 
with  the  others;  a  determination  which  was  carried 
into  execution  that  very  night." 

The  house  of  Guise  was  again  in  the  ascendant 
and  it  was  to  maintain  this  ascendancy  for  many 
a  year  of  bloody  strife  in  France.  Henry,  its  head, 
now  known  as  Le  Balafre  because  of  a  scar  that  a 
wound  had  left  upon  his  face,  cemented  its  power  by 
his  military  achievements  and  by  the  formation  in 
1576 — four  years  after  St.  Bartholomew — of  the  Cath- 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

olic  League.  Charles  IX  was  dead-— some  say  he  died 
of  remorse,  and  some  say  he  died  of  consumption — 
and  Henry  III  had  come  back  from  Poland  to  take  the 
crown  of  France.  The  massacre  of  1572,  in  which  he 
played  a  more  effective  part  than  did  Charles,  never 
weighed  uncomfortably  upon  his  conscience  after  his 
accession  to  the  throne.  He  resented  the  power  of 
Balafre  and  his  house,  and  soon  there  was  an  open 
rupture  and  France  became  the  theatre  of  the  so- 
called  "War  of  the  Three  Henrys."  There  had  grown 
up  at  Guise's  side  his  younger  brother  Mayenne,  a 
warrior  of  the  same  type,  and,  with  the  League  de- 
voted to  them,  these  two  brothers  were  more  than  a 
match  for  Henry  of  France  and  Henry  of  Navarre. 
Having  defeated  an  army  of  Germans  sent  into 
France  to  aid  the  enemies  of  the  League,  Guise  en- 
tered Paris  boldly  and  the  whole  population  rose  for 
him  on  the  "Day  of  the  Barricades."  The  king  was 
beleaguered  in  the  Louvre;  the  city  was  in  the 
hands  of  his  great  vassal.  Guise's  followers  would 
have  proclaimed  him  king  but  he  waved  the  crown 
from  him. 

The  States  General  were  convoked,  and  at  their 
stormy  sessions  Balafre  demanded  the  royal  appoint- 
ment as  high  constable  and  general  of  the  kingdom. 
It  was  quite  evident  that  the  Parliament  was  in  his 
favor,  and  the  king  resolved  on  the  Machiavellian  ex- 
pedient. Guise  was  treacherously  slain  by  his  order 
in  the  council-room,  and  the  same  day  the  Cardinal  of 
Lorraine  was  murdered  in  prison. 

But  there  was  still  a  survivor  of  that  lion  brood: 
Mayenne  escaped  the  king's  assassins,  and  Henry  was 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

forced  to  seek  safety  in  the  camp  of  the  King  of  Na- 
varre. The  Leaguers  and  the  Huguenots  again 
clashed  with  varying  fortune,  and  at  last  the  camp  of 
the  two  kings  was  pitched  outside  the  gates  of  Paris, 
which  was  held  by  the  Duke  of  Mayenne.  In  the 
camp  Henry  acknowledged  Navarre  as  his  heir,  but 
informed  him  that  he  would  never  occupy  the  throne 
until  he  became  a  Catholic.  That  this  information 
was  not  despised  by  the  Navarrese,  when  Henry  III 
was  assassinated  and  his  right  by  birth  to  the  crown 
unquestioned,  is  shown  in  his  correspondence  with  the 
popes.  In  these  negotiations  also  is  the  evidence  of 
the  political  nature  of  these  wars.  The  possibility  of 
a  reconciliation  between  Henry  IV  and  the  church 
enraged  Philip  II,  and  his  agents  at  Rome  and  in 
France  indulged  in  violent  attacks  on  Pope  Sixtus  for 
entering  into  negotiations  with  Henry.  Cardinal 
Cajetan,  the  Spaniard  who  was  papal  legate  to  the 
League,  was  so  active  in  his  opposition  to  the  legiti- 
mate heir  that  the  pope  wrote  to  him,  threatening  him 
with  severe  penalties  if  he  did  not  cease  to  act  as  the 
legate  of  Philip  II  and  remember  that  it  was  the  pope 
he  represented  in  France.  Mayenne,  striving  valiantly 
still  against  destiny,  wrote  to  the  pope,  asking  for 
men  and  arms,  and  begging  him  to  support  the 
League  not  only  against  Henry  but  against  Philip, 
who  was  now  no  more  desirous  of  a  complete  victory 
for  the  Leaguers  than  of  a  determinative  triumph  by 
Navarre.  But  France  was  weary  of  strife,  and 
Henry's  attachment  to  Protestantism  was  not  strong. 
The  king  embraced  the  ancient  faith,  and  France  ac- 
cepted the  king ;  and  the  Huguenots  thereupon  ceased 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

to  be  a  considerable  force  in  the  political  affairs  of 
France. 

Here  again  we  find  the  political  influences,  the  in- 
trigues of  princes,  lighting  the  fires  of  bigotry  to  serve 
the  purposes  of  politics.  The  politicians  of  a  later  day 
have  other  shibboleths,  but  similar  methods.  They 
generate  hatred  as  the  drivers  of  a  locomotive  gener- 
ate steam;  it  is  the  force  they  need  to  accomplish  their 
purpose.  How  long  was  the  bitterness  of  the  Civil 
War  kept  alive  here,  after  the  death  of  Lincoln,  the 
forgiver,  by  cheap  politicians  who  found  profit  to 
themselves  in  the  waving  of  "the  bloody  shirt"?  Have 
the  demagogues  of  to-day  forgotten  the  art— isn't  the 
fomentation  of  class  hatred  the  main  occupation  of 
more  than  half  the  ambitious  and  conscienceless  self- 
glorifiers  who  so  largely  figure  and  loudly  sound  in 
the  public  life  of  our  day?  The  form  is  changed,  but 
not  the  substance.  Ballots  have  to  a  large  extent 
taken  the  place  of  blades,  and  an  admixture  of  many 
creeds  in  the  voting  population  has  made  the  old  shib- 
boleths inconvenient  for  the  vote-catchers;  but  they 
still  generate  hate,  they  still  seek  spoil  through  de- 
struction. It  is  a  very  old  business,  this  of  making 
profit  out  of  the  public.  It  doesn't  belong  to  the  mod- 
erns of  America  alone ;  every  land  and  every  age  has 
had  it:  it  was  in  the  Greek  cities  and  in  the  Roman 
Republic,  it  was  in  the  Italian  life  and  the  German  life 
of  the  middle  ages,  it  was  in  the  Catholic  League  in 
France  and  the  "Protestant  Boys"  of  England. 

Politics  put  its  impress  on  the  Reformation  by  the 
nationalization  of  the  churches.  Henry  VIII  defined 
the  Church  of  England.  The  Lords  of  the  Covenant 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

defined  the  Church  of  Scotland.  And  these  names  did 
not  signify  merely  the  location  of  the  particular  part 
of  a  universal  church,  as  did  the  terms  "the  Church  of 
Alexandria"  and  "the  Church  of  Rome"  among  the 
early  Christians.  They  meant  churches  with  pecu- 
liarities of  rite  and  dogma;  the  geographical  limita- 
tion of  a  divine  revelation.  Even  among  the  Germanic 
and  Scandinavian  states,  where  the  acceptance  of  the 
Lutheran  form  preserved  a  surface  uniformity  of 
ritual  and  creed,  there  were  national  modifications  in- 
separable from  a  complete  ecclesiastical  subserviency 
to  the  national  ruler. 

It  may  be  true  that  the  right  of  private  judgment 
emerged  from  the  Reformation,  but  it  was  a  terrible 
gauntlet  it  had  to  run  before  it  emerged.  Burned  and 
bloodied  it  was  by  Protestant  no  less  than  by  Catholic 
hands.  Draper  quotes  a  Venetian  envoy's  report  to 
the  effect  that  in  the  Netherlands  and  in  Friesland 
30,000  suffered  death  for  Anabaptist  opinions.  The 
"Six  Articles"  of  Henry  VIII  are  still  known  in  Eng- 
lish history  as  "the  Bloody  Six,"  the  name  bestowed 
upon  them  by  the  Tudor  king's  Catholic  subjects ;  and 
his  daughter  Mary  is  still  remembered  by  the  name 
"Bloody  Mary,"  which  the  Protestant  subjects  of  her 
time  bestowed  upon  her.  John  Calvin  could  still  bring 
to  the  .slow  fire  Michael  Servetus,  who  preached  a 
Protestantism  differing  from  his  own  only  as  his  own 
differed  from  that  of  Luther  and  Melanchthon. 

And  we  have  let  politicians  tell  us  these  were  the 
fruits  of  religious  controversy !  We  have  accepted  it 
as  true  that  they  and  many  another  bloody  deed — that 
all  the  persecution  and  all  the  cruelty — were  caused 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

by  religion.  And  it  isn't  true.  Not  a  single  instance 
of  so-called  religious  persecution  that  I  have  exam- 
ined did  not  have  a  sufficient  political  reason.  There 
was  Catholic  hatred  in  Ireland  for  the  Protestants 
because  of  the  massacres  by  Elizabeth's  Protestant 
soldiery.  Spenser,  the  English  poet,,  who  accom- 
panied that  soldiery,  tells  what  was  done :  "In  a  short 
space  there  was  none  almost  [of  the  Catholics]  left; 
and  a  most  populous  and  pleasant  country  was  sud- 
denly void  of  man  and  beast."  Was  this  wholesale 
slaughter  due  to  Elizabeth's  zeal  for  the  right  of  pri- 
vate interpretation?  Spenser  answers  our  question; 
he  tells  us  he  got,  as  his  share,  3000  acres  of  the  con- 
fiscated land  of  the  slain  Irish.  The  Scottish  lords 
committed  murder  in  the  very  presence  of  their  Cath- 
olic queen.  Was  it  in  protest  against  "the  sale  of  in- 
dulgences" ? 

Henry  VIII's  "Six  Articles" — what  real  care  had 
he  for  them?  But  he  was  a  king,  no  subject  might 
gainsay  him;  it  was  f or.  lese-majeste,  for  daring  even 
to  disagree  with  what  he  did  not  himself  believe  but 
said  they  must  believe,  that  by  the  stake  and  the  axe 
they  died  by  whom  his  religious  decrees  were  called 
"the  Bloody  Six." 

And  Mary  was  the  very  centre  of  a  bitter  political 
battle— around  her  a  band  of  politicians  seeking  ven- 
geance for  the  wrongs  of  the  previous  reigns,  at  her 
side  a  weathercock  theologian,  loyal  to  any  faith  that 
might  be  the  fashion.  Against  her  were  the  politi- 
cians who  had  been  turned  out  of  power  at  her  acces- 
sion. Even  then  she  checked  the  persecutors  until 
actual  rebellions  on  the  part  of  the  Protestant  faction 

£1693 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

endangered  her  throne:  not  until  Wyatt's  abortive 
revolt  were  her  partisans  permitted  to  punish  her 
political  enemies. 

The  Servetus  affair?  Calvin  was  fighting  the 
Libertines — the  party  which  had  that  name  in  Ger- 
many and  in  Geneva — fighting  them  for  political 
power  with  the  aid  of  Frenchmen  who  flocked  into 
Geneva,  and  his  political  enemies  endeavored  to  make 
use  of  Servetus  against  him.  It  was  for  that  Servetus 
died. 

No  matter  how  pure  the  spirit  of  any  of  the  re- 
ligious movements  of  those  days,  politics  placed  its 
cruel  hand  upon  them,  seized  them,  directed  them  to 
ends  altogether  irreligious.  This  is  what  a  Protestant 
churchman  thinks  of  it : 

"Where  Protestantism  was  an  idea  only,  as  in 
France  or  Italy,"  says  Bishop  Stubbs,  "it  was  crushed 
out  by  the  Inquisition;  where,  in  conjunction  with 
political  power  and  sustained  by  ecclesiastical  confis- 
cation, it  became  a  physical  force,  there  it  was  lasting. 
It  is  not  a  pleasant  view  to  take  of  the  doctrinal 
change  to  see  that  where  the  movements  toward  it 
were  pure  and  unworldly  it  failed ;  where  it  was  sec- 
onded by  territorial  greed  and  political  animosity  it 
succeeded.  .  .  .  The  instruments  by  which  it  was 
accomplished  were  despotic  monarchs,  unprincipled 
ministers,  a  rapacious  aristocracy,  and  venal,  slavish 
parliaments." 

In  closing  this  chapter,  we  may  look  back  with 
some  profit,  I  think,  upon  those  which  have  preceded 
it,  and  give  form  to  the  conclusions  they  all  justify. 
We  have  endeavored  to  deal  with  those  incidents  in 

[1703 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

the  history  of  the  Catholic  Church  which  have  been 
most  productive  of  prejudice  and  which  have  revealed 
the  interplay  of  internal  and  external  influences— the 
relationships  of  church  and  state.  Throughout  all  of 
them  there  is  manifest  a  continuous  conflict;  on  one 
side  secular  politics,  on  the  other  a  religious  aspira- 
tion for  freedom  of  action.  Sometimes  on  the  part  of 
the  churchmen  there  are  means  employed  which 
shock  our  sense  of  right;  but  always  on  the  part  of  the 
opposing  secular  powers  are  such  means  employed. 
If  we  look  back  over  the  history  of  the  church  organi- 
zation we  see  sometimes  a  misuse  of  power,  some- 
times a  human  ambition,  sometimes  shocking  lapses 
from  virtue  on  the  part  of  high  ecclesiastics.  But  if 
we  look  back  over  the  history  of  secular  politics,  how 
utterly  foul  and  cruel  and  murderous  is  the  retro- 
spect? What  has  secular  politics  to  offer  of  good  that 
was  not  impressed  upon  it  by  the  church;  what  has 
the  church  to  show  of  bad  that  was  not  due  to  the 
operations  of  secular  politics?  The  tendency  of  the 
religious  principle  in  the  worst  of  times  has  been  ex- 
alting and  civilizing ;  the  tendency  of  the  other  prin- 
ciple has  been  ever  debasing  and  brutalizing.  And 
to-day,  when  the  politicians  of  the  new  school,  when 
the  special  pleaders  for  an  atheist  school  and  an 
atheist  age,  turn  to  church  history  for  illustrations  of 
the  injustice  of  the  church  and  its  evil  effect  upon 
social  organization,  they  abstain  from  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  history  of  the  thing  they  propose  to  substi- 
tute for  religion  in  the  life  of  men.  They  say  that  in 
past  ages  popes  were  bad,  but  dare  they  say  that  in 
the  past  ages  worldly  human  government  was  not  a 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

thousand  times  more  evil  than  the  worst  of  the  bad 
popes?  Patrick  Henry  said  the  light  of  experience 
was  the  only  lamp  we  had,  but  he  meant  the  light  of 
all  experience,  I  think,  not  the  light  of  a  carefully 
selected  part  of  experience. 

The  whole  object  of  what  I  have  written  will  be  lost 
if  this  small  work  is  considered  as  anything  in  the 
nature  of  Catholic  apologetics.  That  church  has  her 
own  apologists  far  more  learned  and  far  more  elo- 
quent. But  that  church  has  not  a  mere  man  of  busi- 
ness apart  from  her  own  communion  and  therefore  not 
predisposed  in  her  favor,  and  it  is  the  conclusion  of 
such  a  man  after  a  study  of  some  historical  events  that 
I  wish  to  set  down  here.  It  is  quite  possible  to  differ 
with  the  Catholic  Church  upon  points  of  doctrine 
without  accepting  as  true  every  fable  that  political 
animosity  has  invented  to  discredit  it.  We  shall  all  be 
better  Protestants,  I  think,  for  being  fair.  It  is  by  no 
means  necessary  to  my  Methodism  or  another's  Pres- 
byterianism  that  we  shall  believe  there  was  a  Pope 
Joan,  when  there  was  not  a  Pope  Joan;  that  we  shall 
believe  a  religious  spirit  was  responsible  for  St.  Bar- 
tholomew's massacre  when  the  real  impelling  force 
was  secular  and  political.  Nor  need  a  man  be  now 
unduly  excited  over  the  right  of  Henry  VIII  to  a  di- 
vorce, or  the  question  of  Tudor  or  Stuart  on  the  Eng- 
lish throne,  to  be  a  devout  and  righteous  member  of 
the  Church  of  England.  Those  old  questions  have 
hardened  into  history;  they  are  no  longer  questions, 
they  are  facts.  Mary  Stuart  and  Elizabeth  Tudor 
have  gone  to  God,  who  has  judged  between  them, 
doubtless;  the  Guises  and  the  younger  Bourbons — 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

and  the  older,  too — have  long  since  been  laid  in 
sepulchre;  Philip  II  is  of  less  real  importance  than  lit- 
tle Johnnie  Jones  who  is  playing  outside  the  window. 
Let  them  all  go ;  we  have  problems  enough  of  our  own 
without  clinging  to  those  we  can  never  solve  because 
the  Lord  in  his  own  way  solved  them  long  before  we 
were  born.  Let  us  not  forget  the  past,  but  let  us  look 
at  the  past  as  we  look  at  the  present:  let  us  bury  its 
prejudices  with  its  dead ;  its  political  animosities  with 
its  politicians.  The  Church  of  God  is  made  up  of 
human  beings;  its  inspiration  and  authority  are  di- 
vine. And  humanity  has  been  weak  even  in  the  Church 
of  God,  but  immeasurably  weaker  outside  it.  That  is 
the  lesson  of  the  history  of  the  church  and  the  states 
with  which  it  has  held  a  relationship. 

Finally,  is  it  reasonable  to  suppose  that  a  church 
which  has  had  experiences  so  unfortunate  with  state 
connections,  should  still  desire  them?  In  Italy  there 
is  still  a  desire  for  a  restoration  of  the  ancient  political 
right  of  sovereignty ;  but  the  desire  of  Pius  X  is  sim- 
ply the  desire  of  Zachary  and  his  immediate  succes- 
sors in  the  days  of  Luitprand  and  Pepin,  of  Gregory 
in  the  days  of  the  Germanic  Empire,  and  Boniface  in 
the  days  of  Philip  the  Fair — a  desire  for  a  political 
shelter  for  a  free  church.  The  concordats,  the  con- 
cessions, the  secular  nomination  for,  or  confirmation 
of,  episcopal  appointments:  these  are  what  "church 
and  state"  mean  to  the  Catholic  Church,  and  these 
things  that  church  has  hated  historically  and  hates 
to-day.  They  are  passing,  and  the  church  is  glad.  No 
more  may  a  cardinal  in  conclave  act  as  a  vetoing 
agent  of  his  political  sovereign;  the  present  pontiff 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

has  set  his  face  and  his  word  against  the  last  faint 
shadow  of  secular  interference.  He  has  taken  advan- 
tage of  the  public  opinion  of  the  twentieth  century  to 
reassert  an  ancient  right  fought  for  by  his  predeces- 
sors against  oppressive  external  influences  since  that 
remote  hour  in  which  Constantine  gave  official  recog- 
nition to  the  Christian  church. 

It  has  been  charged  against  the  Catholic  Church 
that  it  shuts  its  eyes  always  to  the  changes  in  the 
world  of  men  that  come  with  the  running  generations, 
but  this  also  is  a  misconception.  No  change  has  ever 
come  over  the  world  in  all  the  long  term  of  the  pon- 
tifical succession  which  she  has  not  adapted  to  her 
purpose.  When  they  speak  of  an  unchanging  church 
it  is  of  the  doctrine  they  speak,  of  the  deposit  of  truth 
which  she  boasts  of  carrying  unchanged  through  all 
the  vicissitudes  of  the  troubled  centuries.  It  is  not  the 
attitude  of  the  church  organization  toward  secular 
society.  That  attitude  has  ever  been  a  changing  one ; 
it  has  conformed  ever  to  the  conditions  of  human  life 
with  which  it  had  to  deal;  it  fitted  the  catacombs,  it 
fitted  the  court  of  the  Caesars,  it  fitted  the  Church 
State,  it  fitted  the  enlarged  world  that  the  enterprise 
of  Columbus  and  Magellan  and  Da  Gama  gave  to  the 
activities  of  mankind;  it  fitted  feudalism  and  mon- 
archism  and  democracy  each  in  its  turn. 

That  is  why  Macaulay  could  write  in  1840,  long 
after  the  Reformation,  but  not  so  long  after  the 
French  Revolution : 

"The  Papacy  remains,  not  in  decay,  not  a  mere  an- 
tique, but  full  of  life  and  useful  vigor.  The  Catholic 
Church  is  still  sending  forth  to  the  farthest  end  of  the 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

world  missionaries  as  zealous  as  those  who  landed  in 
Kent  with  Augustine,  and  still  confronting  kings  with 
the  same  spirit  with  which  she  confronted  Attila. . . . 
Nor  do  we  see  any  sign  which  indicates  that  the  term 
of  her  long  dominion  is  approaching.  She  saw  the 
commencement  of  all  the  governments  and  of  all  the 
ecclesiastical  establishments  that  now  exist  in  the 
world;  and  we  feel  no  assurance  that  she  is  not 
destined  to  see  the  end  of  them  all.  She  was  great 
and  respected  before  the  Saxon  had  set  foot  on 
Britain,  before  the  Frank  had  passed  the  Rhine,  when 
Grecian  eloquence  still  flourished  in  Antioch,  when 
idols  were  still  worshiped  in  the  temples  of  Mecca. 
And  she  may  still  exist  in  undiminished  vigor  when 
some  traveller  from  New  Zealand  shall,  in  the  midst 
of  a  vast  solitude,  take  his  stand  on  a  broken  arch  of 
London  Bridge  to  sketch  the  ruins  of  St.  Paul's." 

Three  score  and  ten  years  of  crowded  human  his- 
tory, of  most  marvellous  material  achievement,  of 
tremendous  political  vicissitude  and  immeasurable 
extensions  of  the  field  of  knowledge  in  the  realm  of 
physical  science ;  three  score  and  ten  such  momentous 
years  have  contributed  their  amazing  dynamics  to  the 
onward  march  of  mankind,  and  is  there  yet  any  sign 
of  diminishing  power  in  this  ancient  church?  Is  she 
not  fitting  herself  to  the  swiftly  moving  procession 
with  all  her  ancient  facility,  and  from  each  rapidly 
forming  condition  drawing  an  increase  of  power? 
Not  that  she  veers  with  every  shift  of  the  breeze  or 
bends  her  head  to  every  ripple  on  the  surface  of  the 
sea.  Her  pontiffs  and  priests  have  suffered  in  person, 
her  ancient  estates  have  been  stripped  from  her — these 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

have  been  incidents  of  her  progress ;  but  in  the  large 
view  the  church  herself  has  prospered,  has  ever  kept 
her  course.  And  as  Macaulay  found  her  flourishing 
seventy  years  ago,  despite  conditions  the  world  con- 
ceived to  be  adverse,  so  we  find  her  to-day  flourishing 
in  the  freedom  of  our  American  Republic  and  rejoicing 
greatly  in  the  separation  of  church  and  state.  Time 
and  again,  in  his  sermons  to  his  own  people  and  in  his 
published  works,  Cardinal  Gibbons  has  expressed  the 
complete  satisfaction  of  his  church  with  the  condi- 
tions which  the  wisdom  of  the  fathers  of  the  Republic 
provided  for  our  American  people.  Listen  to  a  prelate 
of  the  Catholic  Church  on  this  point!  This  is  what 
Archbishop  Blenk  of  New  Orleans  said  in  a  sermon 
preached  during  the  exercises  in  celebration  of  Car- 
dinal Gibbons's  golden  jubilee  and  published  in  the 
New  York  Sun  of  October  11,1911: 

"Religion  here  is  untrammelled,  thanks  to  our 
separation  of  church  and  state;  and  whatever  the 
future  may  bring,  we  would  desire  no  change  here  in 
the  relations  of  church  and  state.  That  is  one  lesson 
surely  taught  us  by  European  history,  and  bitterly 
driven  home  by  the  events  of  our  day.  No  meddling 
official  has  a  veto  power  over  our  preaching.  No 
bureaucrat,  more  or  less  hostile  to  religion,  draws  up 
the  list  of  names  from  which  our  bishops  are  chosen. 
The  Holy  Father's  counsel  or  legislative  acts  need  no 
indorsement  of  potentates  before  they  may  cross  our 
borders.  Our  pastors  are  supported  by  the  love  and 
generosity  of  believing  congregations,  and  not  by  the 
stipends  of  a  government.  .  .  .  Separation  here  is  a 
real  separation,  not  spoliation,  not  conspiracy  to 


THE  DAGGERS  THAT  WERE  NOT  BLESSED 

lessen  the  church's  influence,  nor  restriction  upon  her 
liberty  of  action  and  liberty  of  teaching,  nor  tyran- 
nical denial  of  the  ministrations  of  religion  to  those 
who  leave  home  to  serve  their  country  in  army  and 
navy.  It  means  perfect  freedom  for  church  and  state, 
each  in  its  own  sphere ;  but  here,  as  there  has  been  no 
divorce,  there  is  no  legacy  of  bitterness.  On  the 
friendliest  of  terms,  neither  has  any  desire  for  a  closer 
union.  The  church  here  knows  it  can  better  do  its 
work  apart;  it  is  freer  and  therefore  more  powerful, 
and,  being  unpaid  by  the  state,  and  independent,  it 
can  uphold  law  and  order  without  giving  to  any  one 
an  excuse  to  suspect  its  motives." 

If  in  the  brief  and  incomplete  study  of  the  past  that 
has  occupied  these  chapters,  I  have  shown  that  what 
we  have  regarded  here  as  religious  prejudice  is  based 
very  largely  upon  falsehood,  and  is  the  daughter  less 
of  doctrinal  disagreement  than  of  the  corrupt  politics 
of  long  ago;  that  the  Catholic  Church  less  than  any 
other  church,  perhaps,  desires  a  union  of  church  and 
state;  that,  in  any  event,  under  modern  conditions 
such  a  union  is  utterly  impossible — if  I  have  shown 
these  things,  then  I  may  close  this  branch  of  my  work 
and  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the  problem  with 
which  it  is  most  concerned. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

WHAT  is  Education?    What  is  its  purpose? 
Why  are  there  so  many  school-houses,  so 
many  teachers,  why  so  vast  an  expenditure 
in  money,  so  extensive  and  complicate  an  organiza- 
tion, devoted  to  teaching  the  child?    There  never  was 
an  age  that  did  not  know  education;  never  a  tribe, 
savage  or  civilized,  a  part  of  whose  social  life  did  not 
consist  of  the  systematic  training  of  the  young. 

I  have  just  read  a  book  by  Paul  Monroe,  Ph.D.,  who 
was  professor  of  the  History  of  Education  at  Colum- 
bia. It  is  entitled  A  Brief  Course  in  the  History  of 
Education.  In  this  book  Professor  Monroe  traces  the 
story  of  educational  effort  from  primitive  times  to  the 
present  day,  through  all  its  varying  fashions.  He  re- 
cords the  different  theories  men  have  held  with  regard 
to  it,  the  mutations  of  form  and  content,  the  peculiar- 
ities of  the  succeeding  schools.  He  elucidates  the 
views  of  the  authorities  on  the  subject  whose  views 
are  of  record.  They  are  varied  enough.  They  were 
pagans,  Christians,  Catholics,  Protestants,  atheists; 
they  were  nominalists  and  realists,  sense-realists  and 
naturalists,  formalists,  humanists,  and  social-realists; 
Aristotelians,  Schoolmen,  Ciceronians;  they  were  con- 
servatives and  radicals,  Lutherans  and  Jesuits,  eccle- 
siastics and  Encyclopedists.  In  everything  but  one 
have  they  differed.  There  is  one  point  upon  which 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

they  all  centred.  From  the  early  Hebrews  and  Greeks 
to  the  recognized  modern  authorities,  there  is  a  thread 
of  agreement  that  holds  a  true  course.  There  is  one 
straight-edge  that  can  be  laid  down  upon  the  history 
of  education  from  the  beginning  to  now,  and  it  will 
touch  every  great  teacher  from  Plato  to  Pestalozzi, 
from  Moses  to  Dr.  Eliot.  Differ  as  they  may  and  do 
as  to  method,  they  all  hold  that  the  purpose  of  educa- 
tion is  to  make  a  good  man.  By  whatever  path,  Virtue 
is  the  goal.  By  whatever  method,  the  end  is  Right- 
eousness. In  all  the  long  record  there  is  no  note  of 
dissent  upon  this;  in  every  system  advanced  every- 
thing else  is  secondary  to  the  development  of  the 
moral  character. 

Before  going  back  to  the  ancient  thought  on  this 
subject  it  may  be  well  to  consider  such  primitive  cus- 
toms as  savage  life  still  extant,  or  but  recently  ex- 
tinct, can  exemplify.  They  give  us  some  light;  they 
show  the  same  underlying  purpose,  the  same  all-per- 
vasive principle.  Fundamentally  their  conception  of 
education  is  what  ours  is :  it  has  its  utilitarian  side  and 
its  moral  complement.  The  savage  tribes  teach  their 
boys  to  hunt  and  fish,  to  fashion  implements  of  war  and 
chase,  to  build  shelters  and  make  clothing,  just  as  we 
teach  ours  to  read  and  write  and  figure,  and  in  some 
cases  to  use  their  hands  and  brains  in  mechanical 
work.  The  savage  lad  is  taught  to  take  a  living  from 
his  environment;  the  child  of  civilization,  to  earn  a 
living  in  his.  But  this  is  not  all :  even  among  the  sav- 
age tribes  is  the  dim  perception  of  a  further  need.  The 
soul  has  its  necessities;  a  man  must  be  something 
more  than  strong  and  skilful  in  war  and  chase  in  order 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

to  be  a  useful  member  of  the  tribe.  Human  nature  is 
nowhere  without  some  moral  idea,  and  the  savage  in- 
stinctively feels  the  need  of  inspiration :  he  must  learn 
to  endure  without  flinching,  to  fight  without  fearing, 
to  reverence  the  old,  to  worship  the  spirits  his  fathers 
worshiped.  Therefore  the  schooling  of  the  youth,  the 
exercises  attendant  upon  his  initiation  into  the  adult 
tribal  society,  are  conducted  by  the  priesthood  around 
the  totem-pole.  The  groping  of  the  unenlightened 
mind  toward  the  truth;  the  natural  phenomena  per- 
sonified in  sun-gods  and  air-gods  and  wood-gods  and 
river-gods,  which  are  the  symbols  through  which  the 
dark,  uncultured  soul  strives  to  express  its  vague  but 
ever-present  conception  of  a  Creative  Controlling 
Power — these  are  the  things  that  affect  his  education. 
Far  from  civilization,  where  the  intellect  hardly 
throbs,  where  there  has  been  no  revelation  and  is  no 
light,  some  mysterious  power  weds  these  two  things — 
the  secular  education  and  the  religious  aspiration. 
The  affinitive  quality  asserts  itself  with  the  force  of  a 
natural  law.  This  education,  Mr.  Monroe  says,  has  a 
moral  value.  It  is  not  enough  that  the  lad  shall  be  a 
useful  member  of  his  tribe :  he  is  "taught  to  be  a  good 
member  of  the  tribe." 

We  shall  pass  over  the  educational  system  of  the 
ancient  Hebrews,  whose  public  schools — of  which 
they  had  many  before  the  time  of  Christ-— were  in- 
formed, as  was  all  their  social  life,  by  the  spirit  of 
their  revealed  religion,  and  see  what  the  historian 
finds  among  the  ancient  Greeks.  Here  there  was  no 
revealed  religion,  no  authoritative  moral  code.  They 
had  had  to  form  their  own  religion,  as  did  the  savage 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

tribes;  but  their  keen  minds  had  approximated  the 
truth,  their  greater  thinkers  had  reasoned  a  God  from 
the  natural  evidences  of  His  Being.  Unaided,  their 
logic  had  postulated  a  Supreme  Intelligence  morally 
perfect.  But  that  was  their  logic  at  its  best.  The 
Greek  mind  of  a  lower  order  might  in  the  vague  Zeus 
mistily  perceive  the  outlines  of  God,  but  it  naturally 
thought  of  supernatural  power  in  terms  of  its  highly 
developed  aesthetic  sense :  its  familiar  deities  were  the 
personifications  of  Power  and  Speed  and  Beauty — 
with  these  it  peopled  its  heaven.  Consequently  there 
was  an  indistinct  and  indirect  moral  impulse,  which 
did  indeed  predominate  as  an  educational  motive,  but 
which  lacked  the  compelling  force  of  an  authoritative 
moral  commandment.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  Mr. 
Monroe  regards  the  Greek  educational  period  as  of 
great  interest  to  modern  American  students.  These 
are  the  words  in  which  he  points  out  the  resemblance 
of  educational  conditions  here  and  now  to  educational 
conditions  there  and  then : 

"Since  the  aim  of  education,  as  limited  in  the  work 
of  the  American  schools  of  to-day,  must  eliminate  the 
religious  element,  it  can  find  no  higher  purpose  than 
that  of  determining  for  each  individual  the  things  in 
this  life  that  are  best  worth  living  for." 

In  passing  may  I  call  attention  to  the  two  words  I 
have  italicized  and  their  connotation  that  our  educa- 
tion is  a  limited  and  an  inferior  education?  They  are 
valuable  as  an  unconscious  expression  of  the  thought 
of  an  expert. 

A  limited  and  an  inferior  educational  system  the 
ancient  Greeks  had  then,  although  they  recognized 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  need  of  something  better  and  were  seeking  for  it 
ever.  Aristotle  declared  the  aim  of  education  to  be 
goodness.  There  were  two  kinds  of  goodness,  he 
thought,  goodness  of  intellect  and  goodness  of  char- 
acter, and  with  regard  to  the  latter  he  said:  "Virtue 
does  not  consist  in  the  mere  knowledge  of  the  good, 
but  in  the  functioning  of  this  knowledge."  Socrates 
and  Plato  held  the  same  thought  with  regard  to  the 
purpose  of  education :  it  must  always  be  moral.  And 
the  Greeks,  reaching  out  for  some  moral  staff  on 
which  to  lean,  adopted  various  expedients:  they 
taught  youths  to  emulate  the  virtues  of  their  elders, 
of  the  great  men  of  the  state;  they  provided  the  stu- 
dent with  an  "inspirer"  whose  name  suggests  his 
office.  But,  lacking  the  authoritative  moral  code, 
what  was  the  result?  How  did  their  system,  in  which 
Mr.  Monroe  sees  so  great  a  resemblance  to  our  own, 
work?  This  is  his  conclusion:  "The  ethical  motive 
among  the  masses  of  the  people  was  not  sufficiently 
developed  to  prevent  the  toleration  of  many  customs 
abhorrent  to  modern  times."  He  tells  us  what  these 
customs  were — the  debasement  of  women,  the  ex- 
posure of  undesirable  children  so  that  they  might 
perish,  the  enslavement  of  nine-tenths  of  the  popula- 
tion— these  were  some;- and  one  is  startled  when  he 
thinks  of  what  we  have  already  upon  us  in  the  wave 
of  women  politicians,  professors  of  eugenics  and  pro- 
moters of  Socialism — startled  at  the  evidence  of  simi- 
lar causes  and  similar  effects.  But  it  stops  not  there, 
it  goes  further,  and  again  we  find  modern  develop- 
ments keeping  step  with  the  ancient  developments: 
"Moreover,  the  Greek  versatility  bordered  on  the  in- 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

sincere,  even  the  dishonest,  while  their  light-hearted- 
ness  often  became  frivolity  and  licentiousness." 

Possibly  when  Professor  Monroe  wrote  his  book 
the  influence  behind  the  secularization  which  he  notes 
was  not  as  clearly  defined  as  it  has  since  become,  for 
he  does  not  seem  to  consider  that  the  pure  socialism 
of  the  Spartan  system  had  that  particular  interest  for 
American  educators  which  he  found  in  the  uninspired 
ethics  of  Grecian  education  elsewhere.  Let  me  here 
remark,  in  order  that  the  argumentative  thread  of 
this  chapter  shall  remain  unbroken,  that  even  in  Lace- 
daemon  the  purpose  of  education  was  moral.  It  was 
even  more  disciplinary  in  its  motive  and  its  operation 
than  the  monastic  schools  of  the  dark  ages,  there  was 
a  compelling  force  of  the  most  direct  and  intimate 
nature  behind  its  every  precept.  From  the  day  the 
Spartan  was  born  until  the  day  he  died,  external  in- 
fluences channelled  his  life,  his  path  was  sharply  de- 
fined. 

"This  resulted,"  Monroe  says,  "in  the  most  perfect 
example  of  a  socialistic  state,  and  the  most  extreme 
case  of  government  control  of  education,  with  em- 
phasis upon  the  educational  functions  of  various  social 
institutions.  In  fact,  society  itself  became  a  school  in 
which  every  adult  member  was  expected  to  partici- 
pate, as  an  important  duty  of  citizenship,  in  the  edu- 
cation of  the  young  Spartan." 

It  may  be  pointed  out,  however,  that  the  socialistic 
system  of  the  Spartans  was  something  that  was 
forced  on  them;  that  it  was  considered  as  a  means  of 
defense  against  hostile  tribes  by  whom  the  state  was 
surrounded ;  that  its  motive  was  military  and  its  dis- 

£183:1 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

cipline  therefore  strict.  The  idea  of  the  Spartan 
statesman  was  not  to  make  happier  the  lot  of  the  in- 
dividual, to  increase  his  material  wealth  and  minister 
to  his  material  comfort,  but  to  make  him  a  good  sol- 
dier; and  therefore  a  moral  code,  a  strict,  abstemious, 
laborious  life,  was  necessary  to  the  very  purpose  of 
the  institution.  This  consideration  has  a  bearing  of 
the  utmost  weight  upon  the  question  Mr.  Monroe 
asks  and  answers.  He  says  their  experience  furnishes 
an  affirmative  answer  to  the  question,  Can  morals  be 
taught?  Does  it?  The  question  is  very  interesting; 
it  has  been  raised  by  the  teachers  of  the  ethical  culture 
school ;  it  is  the  principle  of  Dr.  Eliot's  theories  with 
regard  to  education.  Let  us  see,  then,  what  it  all 
amounted  to  ultimately.  It  cannot  be  denied  that  it 
kept  the  Lacedaemonians  physically  strong  and  na- 
tionally powerful  for  many  years,  but  does  it  follow 
that  it  would  do  the  same  to-day  for  Americans? 
Would  it  have  stood  up  in  Sparta  for  any  time  at  all 
had  not  hostile  spears  glistened  on  every  frontier  so 
that  relaxation  would  have  meant  destruction  to  the 
state?  Even  then,  would  it  have  held  together,  had  it 
not  been  for  the  fact  that  there  was  no  private  life, 
that  every  man  lived  day  and  night  in  the  public  view 
and  according  to  a  schedule  prescribed  by  a  strict  and 
ever  vigilant  government?  The  Spartan  might  sin 
but  he  could  not  sin  in  secret,  nor  could  he  sin  against 
the  code  established  without  the  certainty  of  swift 
and  severe  punishment.  But  even  with  all  this,  what 
was  the  fruit  of  the  tree,  what  was  the  effect  of  their 
system  upon  the  moral  character  of  this  strange 
people? 

[1843 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

"It  must  be  admitted,  however,"  Monroe  says, 
"that  while  the  Spartans'  moral  training  conserved 
certain  elemental  virtues,  its  effects  morally  as  well  as 
physically  had  a  certain  hardening,  even  brutalizing, 
tendency." 

So  that  is  what  it  all  ends  in.  That  is  the  best  an- 
cient history  can  do  in  the  way  of  an  affirmative  an- 
swer to  the  question,  Can  morals  be  taught? 

The  Roman  people,  the  most  wonderful  of  all  the 
ancients,  did  not  deviate  from  the  line  of  moral  pur- 
pose in  their  educational  work.  Sober,  strong,  prac- 
tical people,  less  acute  mentally  but  of  a  nobler  order 
morally  than  the  Greeks  whose  civilization  they  bor- 
rowed, they  taught  sobriety  and  reverence  to  their 
young;  they  held  two  sublime  conceptions — justice 
and  duty.  In  them  more  than  in  any  other  of  the  un- 
enlightened peoples  who  flourished  before  the  dawn 
of  Christianity,  a  natural  morality  was  developed. 
They  were  very  practical  men,  their  morality  was  for 
every-day  use,  they  endeavored  to  make  justice  and 
duty  less  abstractions  than  rules  of  living.  They 
were  utilitarians,  but  utilitarians  of  the  highest  order, 
and  they  had  developed  a  natural  code  of  moral  laws 
which  received  supernatural  authority  when  Chris- 
tianity came  to  make  light  what  had  been  dark  in  the 
ways  of  men. 

There  will  hardly  be  any  question  as  to  the  purpose 
of  the  Christian  schools.  The  fathers  of  the  church 
might  differ  as  to  whether  the  learning  of  the  pagan 
world  was  conducive  to  a  virtuous  character,  but  that 
a  virtuous  character  was  the  end  of  all  educational 
effort  was  never  doubted.  It  was  not  questioned  by 

[1853 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  scholastics,  who  endeavored  to  bring  back  some 
of  the  ancient  culture,  by  the  humanists,  by  the  stu- 
dents of  the  dawn  years  of  the  second  millennium,  in 
whose  hearts  throbbed  the  first  faint  pulses  of  the 
Renaissance. 

Education  took  on  a  new  form  and  color,  but  the 
old  motive  persisted.  The  new  intellectual  period  had 
begun  with  the  Holy  Roman  Empire.  Charlemagne 
was  the  first  of  the  great  Western  patrons  of  learning ; 
his  founder  of  schools,  Alcuin,  was  an  abbot  of  the 
Christian  church.  St.  Boniface,  who  founded  schools 
throughout  Gaul  and  Germany,  was  another  high  ec- 
clesiastic. For  centuries  yet  the  only  teachers  were  to 
be  priests ;  but  even  when  the  lay  schools  began  to  be 
more  numerous,  there  was  no  departure  from  the  old 
basic  idea,  the  precepts  of  religion  were  still  the  chief 
part  of  the  curriculum.  Vittorio  da  Feltra,  who  es- 
tablished his  famous  school  at  Mantua  in  the  closing 
years  of  the  fourteenth  century,  is  called  the  first  of 
the  modern  schoolmasters.  He  declared  that  in  his 
system,  "above  all,  moral  and  Christian  influences 
were  strongly  emphasized."  Nor  did  the  intellectual 
ferment  of  the  Reformation  make  any  change  in  this 
central  idea.  The  humanists  had  never  entertained 
the  suggestion  that  there  could  be  other  than  a  moral 
purpose  in  education.  Erasmus,  the  greatest  of  them, 
held  that  "the  moral  purpose  in  education  should  ever 
be  emphasized,  and  a  study  of  religious  literature  and 
religious  services  should  be  a  part  of  all  training." 
Nor  were  the  Protestant  leaders  of  different  thought. 
Imagine  the  amazement  with  which  Luther  would 
have  listened  to  a  suggestion  that  religion  be  divorced 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

from  education;  think  of  Melanchthon,  or  Calvin, 
dreaming  of  such  a  possibility  as  a  godless  school! 

John  Milton  the  Puritan,  the  great  poet,  prescribes, 
among  the  subjects  of  study,  "moral  training,  history, 
theology,  church  history."  Comenius  declared,  "The 
ultimate  end  of  man  is  beyond  this  life.  .  .  .  This  life 
is  but  the  preparation  for  eternity." 

John  Locke,  the  philosopher,  adds  this  to  the 
chorus :  "  'Tis  Virtue  then,  direct  Virtue,  which  is  the 
hard  and  valuable  part  to  be  aimed  at  in  education, 
and  not  a  forward  pertness  and  any  little  arts  of  shift- 
ing." 

And  so  the  centuries  roll  on,  and  they  have  only  one 
voice  on  this  matter.  The  Encyclopedists  take  pos- 
session of  the  fashionable  thought  of  France,  and 
Rousseau  writes  his  great  work  on  education — Emile. 
"Now,"  says  he,  "his  education  is  to  be  strictly  moral 
and  religious."  This  is  the  Rousseau  who  wrote  The 
Social  Contract,  who  even  more  than  Voltaire  "made 
the  Revolution"  in  the  thought  of  Napoleon  and 
others.  From  Rousseau  the  thread  leads  to  Pesta- 
lozzi,  who  brings  us  to  modern  thought  and  modern 
method.  "In  Europe,"  deplores  Pestalozzi,  "the  cul- 
ture of  the  people  has  become  vain  babbling,  as  fatal 
to  faith  as  to  true  knowledge;  an  instruction  of  mere 
words  which  contain  a  little  dreaming  and  show, 
which  cannot  give  us  the  calm  wisdom  of  faith  and 
love,  but  on  the  contrary  leads  us  to  unbelief  and 
superstition.  .  .  ."  Herbart  says,  "The  one  and 
whole  work  of  education  may  be  summed  up  in  the 
concept — morality."  And  Froebel  speaks  to  us  next; 
in  his  Education  of  Man  he  says,  "All  things  have  come 

£187:1 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

from  the  Divine  Unit,  from  God,  and  have  their  origin 
in  the  Divine  Unity  alone."  And  this  is  Huxley's 
description  of  an  educated  man:  "...  The  servant 
of  a  tender  conscience  who  has  learned  to  love  all 
beauty  in  nature  or  art,  to  hate  all  vileness,  and  to 
respect  others  as  himself."  Less  clear  in  expression, 
but  of  the  same  thought,  is  Professor  James  when  he 
says  education  is  "the  organization  of  acquired  habits 
of  action  such  as  will  fit  the  individual  to  his  physical 
and  social  environment" ;  and  Professor  Home  says, 
"Education  is  the  superior  adjustment  of  a  physically 
and  mentally  developed  conscious  human  being  to  his 
intellectual,  emotional,  and  volitional  environment." 
This  last  is  merely  the  slang  of  the  specialist  for  what 
an  old  Irishwoman  better  expressed  when  she  said, 
"I'm  sending  Mickey  to  school  to  make  a  good  man 
of  him." 

I  might  go  on  quoting  indefinitely,  but  it  is  needless. 
Even  the  Nationalists,  the  Socialists,  the  Ferrerists,  I 
take  it,  believe  that  the  main  and  important  purpose 
of  schooling  is  to  develop  the  moral  character.  The 
experience  of  humanity  from  the  earliest  times  has 
taught  but  one  lesson  on  this  point:  the  moral  results 
are  the  touchstone  of  the  system — if  a  school  does  not 
make  its  pupils  better  men,  then  it  is  a  failure.  Leaving 
out  of  the  question  altogether  the  religious  concep- 
tion of  man's  creation  and  destiny,  looking  to  human 
experience  only,  we  find  that  the  moral  life  is  the  only 
social  safeguard;  a  prosperous  and  happy  immoral 
people  is  inconceivable.  States  have  stood  up  against 
external  hostile  influences,  have  persisted  through 
material  poverty,  have  survived  even  ignorance,  but 

C 188;] 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

their  morality  has  always  been  the  very  fibre  of  them, 
its  decadence  is  always  the  forerunner  of  political  dis- 
aster. 

It  is  worth  while  noting  the  effect  of  the  moral  ob- 
jective in  education  upon  its  utilitarian  efficacy.  And 
when  we  meet  this  question  we  uncover  one  of  the 
paradoxes  of  human  experience.  Wherever  the  moral 
purpose  of  education  is  emphasized,  the  utilitarian 
purpose  is  well  served;  wherever  the  utilitarian  pur- 
pose is  emphasized  neither  is  well  served.  Not  to 
teach  mathematics,  but  to  teach  morality,  is  the  best 
way  to  make  mathematicians.  That  is  the  way  it  has 
worked  out.  Take  the  monastic  schools  of  the  "dark 
ages."  First  let  us  make  plain  what  we  mean  by  the 
"dark  ages."  The  name  has  been  applied,  strangely 
enough,  to  that  period  in  history  when  there  began  to 
be  a  diffusion  of  light.  The  Greek  civilization  was 
luminous,  it  is  true,  but  the  light  shone  like  a  single 
star  in  a  black  sky.  The  diameter  of  civilization  was 
short,  indeed.  The  circle  of  light  comprehended  but 
a  few  square  miles  of  the  earth's  surface  lying  around 
the  eastern  end  of  the  Mediterranean  Sea.  Beyond 
that  small  circumference  were  vast  black  wilder- 
nesses. Toward  the  Orient  was  the  faint  afterglow 
of  prehistoric  civilizations  Africa  lay  to  the  south, 
in  a  night  that  has  persisted  unto  this  generation. 
America  was  in  the  deepest  shadow,  relieved  only  by 
a  glimmer,  perhaps,  where  the  Aztecs,  or  the  Toltecs, 
or  the  sun-worshiping  Incas  were  lighting  their  feeble 
intellectual  lamps.  In  Europe,  save  for  that  patch  on 
the  Mediterranean  shore,  the  sons  of  Japhet  walked 
in  gloom.  Nor  was  the  Greek  civilization  of  any 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

depth.  When  it  was  purely  Greek  and  at  its  brightest, 
it  was  but  a  surface  glow.  One-tenth  of  the  Greeks 
were  enlightened  and  free,  nine-tenths  of  them  the 
most  abject  and  ignorant  of  slaves.  The  extension 
of  that  civilization  to  Rome  deepened  it  slightly,  but 
it  became  less  brilliant  as  it  was  diffused  over  a  larger 
area.  To  some  extent  the  enterprise  and  valor  of  the 
Romans  spread  it  north  and  west,  but  it  gave  only  a 
faint  radiance  then — its  pristine  brilliancy  was  gone 
forever. 

The  illumination  of  the  world  was  a  task  demand- 
ing a  purer  and  a  stronger  light,  and  Christianity 
furnished  the  torch.  And  when  the  glow  of  this 
strange  supernatural  light  began  to  struggle  with  the 
darkness  of  the  world,  then  began  what  are  known  as 
the  "dark  ages."  It  was  not  that  they  were  darker 
than  those  which  had  gone  before;  it  was  the  begin- 
ning of  a  consciousness  on  the  part  of  the  more  en- 
lightened of  the  fact  that  they  were  so  dark.  The  wall 
between  civilization  and  barbarism  was  broken  down 
and  the  darkness  of  the  world  mingled  with  the  light 
that  had  been  confined  to  a  few,  but  was  to  shine 
henceforth  for  all  men.  It  was  the  beginning  of  a  vast 
struggle  between  intellectual  night  and  intellectual 
day.  And  little  by  little  the  light  won  its  way  and  the 
shadows  receded,  little  by  little  the  civilizing  influ- 
ence spread,  deepening  the  purposes  and  ennobling 
the  lives  of  men.  Little  by  little  the  arts  and  sciences 
regained  what  was  lost,  and  more  also,  not  in  the  nar- 
row theatre  of  the  past,  but  all  over  the  wide  world. 

And  how  was  this  accomplished?  By  teaching  the 
arts  and  the  sciences?  No;  by  teaching  the  worship 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

of  God.  What  did  the  work?  Was  it  done  by  great 
universities,  supported  by  such  endowments  as  the  Car- 
negie Fund,  presided  over  by  men  who  gave  their 
whole  lives  to  the  study  of  natural  sciences  and  secu- 
lar literatures?  No.  It  was  the  monk  that  modern 
culture  so  despises  who  did  the  work.  It  was  the 
monk,  preparing  men  for  the  next  world,  who  made 
men  fit  to  live  in  this.  It  was  the  monk  who  kept  in 
his  cells  the  treasures  of  ancient  literature  that  would 
have  been  lost  otherwise,  and  reproduced  them  in  the 
scriptorium  of  the  monastery.  It  was  the  monk  who 
taught  the  peasant  the  agricultural  arts  and  impressed 
upon  the  nobles  the  dignity  of  labor  by  putting  his 
own  hands  to  the  plow — hands  that  were  consecrated 
to  the  service  of  God. 

Our  popular  histories  leave  us  with  the  impression 
that  for  ten  centuries  at  least  the  world  stood  still. 
Before  that  there  were  some  centuries  of  retrogres- 
sion; after  it,  in  the  fifteenth  century,  there  was  a 
sudden  leap  forward.  Civilization,  having  slept, 
dreaming  horrid  dreams,  through  a  long  black  night, 
leaped  to  its  feet,  wide-eyed  and  full  of  life;  of  a  sud- 
den, the  light  broke  on  the  world  like  a  new  day 
radiantly  beautiful.  It  is  thrilling,  but  it  isn't  true. 
There  were  scientists  between  the  fifth  century  and 
Leonardo  da  Vinci;  there  were  schools,  even  common 
primary  schools,  wherever  there  was  Christianity, 
from  the  days  of  Constantine.  The  early  fathers  of 
the  church  were  men  of  culture  and  great  intellectual 
power.  As  logicians  and  rhetoricians  they  were  not 
inferior  to  the  best  of  the  pagan  civilization;  in  phi- 
losophy they  do  not  stand  out  because  they  did  not 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

have  to  create  philosophical  systems,  they  merely 
preached  the  revealed  truths.  That  was  the  great 
task  of  their  time,  and  they  did  it  well.  Plato  set 
himself  to  create  a  philosophy,  and  he  did  it  well. 
Archimedes  was  a  great  mechanic.  Augustine  was  a 
great  missionary.  The  Renaissance  was  not  the  flash 
of  light  that  we  have  been  trained  to  think  it.  It  was 
only  a  stage  in  the  development  of  civilization.  That 
development  had  been  going  on  all  the  time.  Back  in 
the  ninth  century,  there  had  been  common  schools 
under  Christian  control  in  the  provinces  over  which 
Christianity  was  exercising  its  civilizing  influence; 
they  existed  in  Ireland,  they  existed  in  France,  they 
existed  in  Germany. 

The  church  had  had  its  popes  who  were  school- 
teachers and  scientists.  One  of  them  in  the  tenth 
century  had  invented  an  abacus  for  the  study  of 
geometry.  Another,  according  to  the  old  records, 
was  teaching  astronomy  and  geography  by  means  of 
terrestrial  globes. 

Oh,  yes,  a  great  many  people  did  think  the  world 
was  flat;  and  there  was  a  great  deal  of  ignorance — 
there  is  to-day.  The  mass  of  men  then  didn't  know 
any  more  about  the  shape  of  the  earth  than  the  mass 
of  men  now  know  about  the  history  of  those  ages.  But 
they  were  learning,  just  as  we  are  learning.  The 
strictly  religious  monastic  schools  were  teaching 
them  little  by  little,  as  the  human  race  is  always 
taught;  teaching  them  with  the  purpose  of  saving 
their  souls  from  perdition,  and  with  the  effect  of  deep- 
ening and  widening  steadily  the  circle  of  secular 
knowledge. 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

That  is  the  work  that  religion  was  doing  for  the 
human  race — for  its  secular  interest,  I  mean,  not  its 
spiritual  salvation.  Prejudice  would  teach  us  other- 
wise, but  prejudice  is  blind. 

"The  one-sided  and  superficial  literature  of  the  'En- 
lightenment/ "  says  Frederick  William  Foerster,  "is 
raked  for  all  possible  instances  of  abuses,  for  all  the 
degenerate  and  barbarous  symptoms  that  have 
marked  the  history  of  the  church  in  Europe.  The  eye 
of  the  searcher,  like  that  of  a  nerve  specialist,  is  on  the 
qui  vive  for  the  abnormalities  of  human  life.  All  these 
abuses  and  exaggerations  are  represented  as  the  es- 
sential content  of  what  was  in  reality  a  rich  and  mag- 
nificent development  of  civilization.  And  all  this  is 
done  with  such  absolute  lack  of  appreciation  that  the 
reader  is  forced  to  say  to  himself:  Well,  a  man  who 
wants  to  look  at  matters  in  that  way,  who  in  the  long 
development  of  Christian  civilization  can  see  nothing 
but  mental  derangement  and  delirium,  who  thinks 
that  the  unapproachable  masterpieces  of  medieval  ar- 
chitecture, the  rich  harvest  reaped  in  all  arts  and 
crafts,  the  incomparable  spirit  of  sacrifice,  the  living, 
breathing  literature,  the  deep  and  sincere  holiday  joy- 
fulness  of  those  times,  who  thinks  that  all  this  has  no 
inner  connection  with  the  living,  all-embracing,  all- 
penetrating  spiritual  power  of  the  Christian  church, 
that  it  is  no  testimony  to  her  civilizing  creative  energy 
— well,  let  him  think  so,  if  he  will.  Such  a  man  will 
do  no  harm,  for  he  stands  too  far  away  from  the  main- 
springs of  life  to  exercise  any  very  deep  influence 
whatsoever.  Books  written  in  this  spirit  are  read — 
and  forgotten.  To  drag  abuses  to  light  is  an  easy 

[1933 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

task  anywhere  in  history,  and  especially  in  those  pe- 
riods when  institutions  with  really  sublime  ideas  and 
far-seeing  plans  have  undertaken  the  task  of  recreat- 
ing degenerated  civilizations,  since  such  institutions 
must  look  for  success  to  the  cooperation  of  just  those 
human  powers  which  they  intend  to  elevate  and  edu- 
cate. Imagine  'evolutionary'  ethics  endeavoring  to 
civilize  the  disorganized  and  unorganized  masses 
which  the  migration  of  nations  offered  to  the  educa- 
tors of  the  early  middle  ages !" 

This  is  from  the  pen  of  a  man  regarded  for  years  in 
Europe  as  perhaps  the  greatest  living  teacher.  He 
was  for  years  the  foremost  among  the  champions  of 
"ethical  culture" ;  his  father  was  devoted  to  the  cause 
of  non-religious  ethical  education ;  his  own  education 
was  conducted  on  that  line,  and  he  grew  into  man- 
hood an  enthusiast  for  freedom  of  thought  from  "re- 
ligious shackles,"  and  the  development  of  man's 
moral  nature  according  to  the  rationalist  formula.  He 
has  been  the  editor  of  the  newspaper  organ  of  the 
International  Ethical  Culture  Society  and  the  inter- 
national secretary  of  that  society. 

Mr.  Foerster,  too,  has  an  answer  to  the  question, 
Can  morals  be  taught?  His  answer  is  more  to  the 
point  than  is  that  furnished  by  the  experience  of  the 
Spartans,  for  it  deals  with  the  teaching  of  morals  in 
modern  conditions  of  life.  He  lives  to-day,  he  is  the 
most  modern  of  moderns.  He  knows  the  ethical 
culture  theory  and  practice  from  alpha  to  omega ;  he 
has  been  through  all  that.  This  is  his  career,  briefly 
sketched:  His  father,  William  Foerster,  an  astron- 
omer of  note  and  a  privy  councillor  at  one  time  to  the 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

German  emperor,  was  among  those  intellectual  Ger- 
mans who  were  leaders  in  the  rationalist  movement 
and  who  regarded  revealed  religion  as  of  no  further 
value  to  humanity.  The  theory  of  ethical  culture,  of 
supplying  the  moral  need  the  abolition  of  religion  had 
created,  made  a  strong  appeal  to  him,  and  on  the 
model  of  the  Society  for  Ethical  Culture  founded  in 
New  York  in  1876  by  Dr.  Felix  Adler,  he  founded  an 
ethical  culture  society  in  Berlin.  In  the  spirit  and 
according  to  the  rule  of  the  new  cult  William  Foerster 
educated  his  son  Frederick,  who  was  born  in  Berlin 
in  1869.  No  religious  influence  played  any  part  in  the 
training  of  the  younger  Foerster,  who  partook  of  his 
father's  enthusiasm  for  ethical  culture.  Frederick 
was  so  ardent,  indeed,  in  the  cause  that  he  resolved  to 
make  character-training  his  life-work.  It  was  char- 
acteristic of  him  that  he  recognized  the  educational 
value  of  the  study  of  human  life  itself.  After  obtain- 
ing his  degree  of  doctor  of  philosophy  from  the 
University  of  Freiburg  in  1893,  he  spent  two  years 
journeying  among  the  poor  in  Germany,  England, 
and  America,  studying  at  first  hand  and  with  his  own 
eyes  the  conditions  he  hoped  to  ameliorate  if  not 
remedy  by  the  magic  of  a  rational  cultivation  of  na- 
tural morality.  In  1895  he  became  the  editor  of 
Ethische  Kultur,  the  official  organ  of  the  German 
ethical  culture  movement;  and  so  brilliant  was  his 
work,  so  ardent  his  spirit,  so  truly  did  he  typify  the 
movement  at  its  best,  that  the  first  International 
Ethical  Culture  Congress,  held  in  Zurich  the  follow- 
ing year,  created  the  office  of  international  secretary 
and  elected  Foerster  its  first  incumbent.  No  finer  se- 

[1953 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

lection  could  have  been  made.  Young,  strong,  pro- 
found, sincere,  he  was  an  ideal  champion  of  the  cause. 
He  was  ready  to  give  proof  of  the  sincerity  of  the  faith 
that  was  in  him,  and  he  did  give  it — an  article  of  his 
on  the  Kaiser  and  the  Social  Democracy  was  con- 
demned as  treasonable,  and  its  author  offered  the 
choice  between  retraction  and  imprisonment.  He 
suffered  the  imprisonment.  Since  1896  his  home  has 
been  in  Zurich  and  his  principal  work  has  been  the 
teaching  of  ethics  in  the  public  schools  of  that  city, 
although  he  is  also  a  lecturer  at  the  University  of 
Zurich. 

This  is  the  character  of  the  man,  this  his  training 
and  experience,  who  has  found  that  ethical  culture 
must  be  alive  or  it  will  not  work ;  that  the  conscience 
of  man  is  not  a  physical  organ,  but  a  part  of  his  soul. 
For  a  little  more  than  a  year  it  has  been  realized  on 
both  sides  that  his  path  and  that  of  the  society  of 
which  he  was  a  leader  for  seventeen  years  are  diver- 
gent instead  of  coincident  or  parallel,  and  that  the 
distance  between  them  is  widening  rapidly. 

"My  one-time  persuasions,"  he  says,  "were  the  re- 
sult, not  merely  of  my  consistently  irreligious  educa- 
tion, but  likewise  of  the  bookworm  enlightenment 
that  our  universities  offer  to  the  young  man  of  to-day 
— an  enlightenment  that  keeps  him  a  stranger  to  real 
life,  that  allows  no  deep  insight  into  the  shadows  of 
modern  society.  At  one  time  I  was  a  very  earnest 
free-thinker,  and  endeavored  to  follow  the  system  to 
its  deepest  conclusions.  But  just  the  earnestness  of 
my  endeavors  led  me  to  bid  adieu  to  free  thought. . . . 
Instinctively  I  felt  it  my  duty  to  remodel  my  views  by 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

contact  with  real  life.  So  I  interrupted  my  academ- 
ical studies  soon  after  receiving  the  degree  of  doctor, 
devoted  myself  for  two  years  to  the  study  of  the  labor 
problem  and  youthful  delinquents,  gave  myself  to 
practical  personal  care  of  the  poor,  made  journeys  to 
other  lands  to  study  the  same  problems,  and  finally,  in 
Zurich,  began  the  practical  work  in  the  formation  of 
character.  The  insight  thus  gained  into  real  life,  into 
the  concrete  problems  of  the  living  man,  is  the  real 
cause  of  my  inner  transformation.  I  began  to  see 
Christianity  with  other  eyes.  Christianity,  until  then, 
had  seemed  to  be  a  foreign,  antiquated  element  of  life 
— now  I  saw  that  I  had  been  a  stranger  to  life,  a  dead 
man.  'When  the  dead  rise!'  And  I  am  fully  per- 
suaded that  this  same  method  of  living  observation 
of  life  and  self  would  bring  many  of  my  contempo- 
raries to  the  views  which  I  to-day  uphold.  Nor  could 
they  rest  satisfied  with  the  shallow,  diluted  Christian- 
ity of  modern  academic  culture,  but  would  be  drawn 
by  the  concrete  knowledge  of  what  is  human — all  too 
human — to  understand  anew  and  revere  anew  the 
superhuman  grandeur  of  Christ." 

Dr.  Foerster  has  had  the  usual  experience  of  a 
rationalist  who  uses  his  reason  instead  of  setting  it  on 
a  shrine  and  swinging  a  censer  before  it :  the  reason- 
worshipers  announced  sadly  that  he  was  "ultramon- 
tane," "orthodox,"  "Catholic."  It  was  too  bad,  some- 
thing like  his  being  mentally  deranged.  That  is  the 
habit  of  rationalists ;  a  convenient  habit  it  is,  too,  be- 
cause you  do  not  have  to  answer  one  who  is  "ultra- 
montane," or  "orthodox,"  or  "Catholic,"  any  more 
than  you  would  have  to  answer  one  who  is  mentally 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

deranged ;  you  just  announce  the  fact  and  let  it  go  at 
that.  But  there  is  a  new  mental  atmosphere  in  Ger- 
many— they  do  have  new  mental  atmospheres  over 
there  every  once  in  a  while — and  in  the  case  of  Dr. 
Foerster  it  doesn't  go  at  that.  In  the  first  place,  Dr. 
Foerster  isn't  "ultramontane,"  and  he  isn't  "Catholic," 
and  he  is  regarded  quite  generally  in  German  educa- 
tional circles  as  the  deepest  student  and  most  success- 
ful practitioner  of  character  cultivation  now  living. 
Consequently  the  German  world,  or  rather  the  Ger- 
manic world,  that  listened  to  "ethical  culture"  because 
he  preached  it,  is  eager  for  his  new  message,  and 
rationalism  is  quite  put  out  about  it.  To  those  here 
who  hesitate  to  adopt  a  just,  common-sense  plan  of 
restoring  religion  to  its  proper  place  in  the  training 
of  the  young  because  of  an  unrecognized,  but  for  that 
reason  all  the  more  powerful,  prejudice  against  the 
Catholic  Church,  the  defense  of  his  recent  views  by 
this  non-Catholic  German  scholar  should  be  inter- 
esting. 

"Especially  emphatic  has  been  the  protest,"  he 
says,  "against  the  'Catholic'  tone  of  the  book,  and  not 
a  few  have  stamped  the  author  as  a  'strictly  orthodox 
Catholic.'  The  whole  proceeding  is  a  proof  of  the 
narrow-mindedness  with  which,  in  the  present  clash 
of  sects  and  parties,  the  majority  of  men  open  a  book 
that  does  justice  to  their  opponent,  or  even  affirms 
that  much  may  and  should  be  learned  from  an  oppo- 
nent who  enjoys  the  advantage  of  centuries  of  experi- 
ence in  the  field  that  is  in  question.  These  years  have 
furnished  me  with  many  instances  of  the  incredible 
prejudices  with  which  so  many  'unprejudiced'  schol- 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

ars  regard  the  Catholic  Church.  It  is  for  them  an 
unquestioned  dogma  that  every  position  which  she 
defends  is  nonsense,  disease,  superstition.  They  can- 
not grasp  the  idea  of  a  really  unprejudiced  observer 
arriving  by  impartial  research  and  earnest  meditation 
at  the  conclusion  that  certain  educational  ideas  of  the 
Roman  Church  are  the  unavoidable  consequences  of 
any  science  of  life  and  soul  that  penetrates  below  the 
surface.  Such  a  concession  on  the  part  of  a  non- 
Catholic  is  simply  unallowable.  Truth  ceases  where 
Catholicism  begins.  To  find  truth  beyond  that  line  is 
to  forfeit  one's  title  in  the  aristocracy  of  science.  That 
is  the  'prescribed  route'  of  modern  radicalism,  and 
woe  to  the  man  who  leaves  the  beaten  path!  What 
does  it  matter  that  scientific  earnestness  and  honest 
conviction  force  him  to  do  so?  He  is  stigmatized  with 
the  fatal  epithet  of  'ultramontane'  and  thus  made 
harmless.  I  ask  my  honorable  opponents  to  keep  one 
fact  clearly  before  their  eyes :  the  truth  and  indispen- 
sability  of  an  idea  or  method  for  culture  and  civiliza- 
tion do  not  become  null  and  non-existent  just  because 
that  idea  is  upheld  by  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  Or 
is  it  so  absolutely  impossible  to  conceive  that  this 
church,  during  the  centuries  which  she  has  been  en- 
gaged in  caring  for  souls,  has  discovered  one  and  the 
other  essential  truth  of  pedagogy  and  civilization, 
truths  that  must  be  admitted  even  from  a  non-Cath- 
olic standpoint  as  soon  as  the  searcher  digs  into  the 
psychological  and  ethical  depths  of  the  problem  in 
question?" 

Two  facts  stand  out,  then.    First,  the  human  mind 
of  all  ages  agrees  that  the  purpose  of  education  must 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

be  moral.  Second,  the  highest  authority  on  ethical 
culture  declares  that  ethical  culture  is  insufficient. 

"I  know  very  well,"  he  says,  "how  far  'purely 
human'  inspiration  will  lead  the  world  of  youth.  .  .  . 
I  understand  what  a  severe  blow  it  must  be  to  those 
who  would  replace  religion  by  ethics  when  my  convic- 
tions force  me  to  oppose  them  with  all  my  energy, 
when  I  assert  that  just  my  thorough-going  efforts  in 
purely  ethical  instruction  have  convinced  me  that 
such  instruction  is  insufficient — yea,  that  the  ethical 
appeal,  in  order  to  become  deeper,  is  forced  by  its 
own  inner  psychology  to  become  religious;  that  the 
natural  disposition  to  good  must  be  impregnated, 
clarified,  fortified  by  superhuman  ideals  before  it  can 
cope  successfully  with  the  inborn  tendencies  to  evil." 

On  the  i  sth  day  of  July,  1787,  the  Confederate 
Congress,  consisting  of  the  delegates  of  the  United 
States  of  America  appointed  by  each  State  under  the 
Articles  of  Confederation,  passed  what  was  known  as 
the  Northwest  Ordinance  for  the  government  of  the 
territory  of  the  United  States  northwest  of  the  River 
Ohio.  By  the  authority  vested  in  them,  and  for  the 
purpose,  as  they  expressed  it,  of  "extending  the  fun- 
damental principles  of  civil  and  religious  liberty 
which  formed  the  basis  whereon  these  republics,  their 
laws  and  constitutions,  are  erected,"  they  did  ordain, 
as  follows : 

"Religion,  morality  and  knowledge  being  necessary 
to  good  government  and  the  happiness  of  mankind, 
schools  and  the  means  of  education  shall  be  encour- 
aged." (Art.  3.) 

These  delegates  were  those  to  whom  we  appro- 

[200]] 


THE  PURPOSE  OF  THE  SCHOOL 

priately  refer  as  the  Fathers  of  the  Nation.  They 
were  making  the  fundamental  law  for  a  new  territory. 
They  were  expressing  fundamental  ideas.  It  is  plain 
that  they  regarded  "schools  and  the  means  of  educa- 
tion" as  places  and  instruments  for  the  instruction  of 
the  young  in  "religion,  morality  and  knowledge." 
Moreover,  they  gave  enduring  recognition  to  their 
belief  that  not  only  did  education,  properly  consid- 
ered, include  instruction  in  religion,  morality  and 
knowledge,  but  that  these  three  purposes  or  ends  of 
instruction  were  "necessary  to  good  government," 
and,  being  necessary  to  good  government,  should  be 
recognized,  provided  for  and  encouraged  as  essentials 
of  government,  if  it  were  to  be  good  government. 

There  could  be  no  clearer  proof  than  this  that  the 
conception  of  education  and  morality  as  combined 
and  interdependent  factors  was  fundamental  in  this 
government  and  informed  our  constitution.  With 
the  help  of  this  illuminating  statute  we  may  with  cer- 
tainty define  the  precise  meaning  of  those  subsequent 
constitutional  provisions  of  the  Federal  Government 
and  the  various  States  which  have  been  wrenched 
from  their  original  purpose.  They  were  a  simple 
prohibition  framed  in  the  interests  of  justice,  and  in- 
tended to  preclude  the  possibility  of  the  use  of  public 
funds  for  proselyting  purposes  by  any  one  church. 
Not  religion,  but  discrimination  against  religion,  was 
what  the  Fathers  of  the  Republic  feared. 


CHAPTER  X 

WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

THE  destruction  of  religion  in  a  nation  must 
carry  with  it  what  has  been  in  all  times  and 
among  all  nations  a  part  of  religion.  Morality 
has  been  always  the  content  of  religion;  and  this  is 
not  surprising,  because  morality  is  truth  and  religion 
is  truth,  and  truth  is  true  in  all  directions.  So  you 
cannot  say  to  a  man :  "It  is  true  that  virtue  is  a  real 
thing,  but  it  is  not  true  that  God  is  a  real  thing."  "If 
there  is  no  God/'  the  man  will  say  back  to  you,  "then 
what  is  virtue?"  And  you  will  be  put  to  it  for  an  an- 
swer. Never  in  the  history  of  the  world  has  there 
been  a  definition  of  virtue  comprehensible  by  any  con- 
siderable number  of  human  beings  which  was  not 
predicated  upon  the  existence  of  a  God.  Never  in  the 
world  has  there  been  a  law  behind  which  was  not  a 
force.  Never  in  physics  or  logic  has  there  been  an 
effect  without  a  precedent  cause. 

It  is  a  law  of  motion  that  the  initial  impetus  will 
always  hold  in  a  moving  body ;  matter  in  progression 
may  be  deflected  from  its  course  by  the  intervention 
of  other  forces,  but  the  impulse  imparted  at  the  begin- 
ning will  incline  eternally  toward  the  original  direc- 
tion. The  initial  impulse  of  Socialism  was  material- 
istic. It  was  projected  in  that  line.  Efforts  have  been 
made  by  politicians  here  and  elsewhere,  but  particu- 
larly here,  to  change  its  direction,  but  these  efforts 

[202] 


WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

have  always  been  futile  because  the  impulse  was 
stronger  than  the  politicians.  Christian  ministers 
have  tried  to  draw  Socialism  into  coincidence  with 
Christianity,  but  the  result  has  been  invariably  that 
they  have  been  drawn  away  from  Christianity.  Their 
little  disclaimers  have  been  drowned  in  the  great  ma- 
terialistic chorus  of  the  movement.  The  economic 
philosophy  builded  upon  "the  materialistic  concep- 
tion of  history"  cannot  be  wrenched  from  that  foun- 
dation. You  may  find  here  and  there  a  Socialist  who 
protests  that  Socialism  does  not  clash  with  the  family 
ideal,  but  you  will  have  to  seek  him  among  thousands 
of  writers  and  speakers  who  frankly  denounce  mar- 
riage as  a  bourgeois  arrangement  altogether  incom- 
patible with  economic  freedom  and  quite  incapable  of 
surviving  capitalism.  The  Socialist  who  tries  to 
reconcile  his  economic  creed  and  his  religion  will  be 
found  to  have  so  modified  his  religious  beliefs  in  the 
process  of  assimilation  as  to  make  such  a  reconcilia- 
tion possible  only  at  the  expense  of  his  religion.  It  is 
never  his  Socialism  that  is  strained;  it  is  always  his 
belief  in  a  personal  Creator  and  Ruler  of  the  universe. 
Among  the  most  paraded  of  the  so-called  Christian 
Socialists  is  the  Rev.  George  D.  Lunn,  mayor  of  the 
city  of  Schenectady.  Dr.  Lunn  has  vigorously  as- 
serted many  times  that  they  are  unfair  who  assert 
that  Socialism  undermines  religion.  He  made  such  a 
declaration  in  a  debate  at  Hartford,  Connecticut, 
when  I  was  his  opponent;  but  with  questions  and  quo- 
tations I  was  able  to  force  from  him  the  admission 
that  if  compelled  to  choose  between  religion  and 
Socialism,  he  would  choose  Socialism.  What  kind  is 

[203] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

the  Christianity  of  a  Christian  minister  who  admits 
his  willingness  to  relinquish  what  must  be  infinite  and 
eternal  truth  in  order  that  he  may  retain  what  he  him- 
self describes  as  a  mere  economic  programme?  If 
Christian  be  an  adjective  of  any  meaning  at  all,  then 
Dr.  Lunn  is  not  a  Christian  Socialist,  for  no  man, 
knowing  what  Christianity  is,  and  what  Socialism  is, 
can  be  both.  It  does  not  answer  the  argument  to  say 
that  there  are  many  kinds  of  Christians.  There  is  no 
kind  of  Christian  who  is  an  atheist.  There  can  be  no 
kind  of  Christian  who  believes  in  the  "materialistic 
conception  of  history."  Catholic  and  Protestant  may 
differ  as  to  the  meaning  of  some  things  Christ  said, 
but  between  them  there  can  be  no  difference  of  opin- 
ion as  to  what  he  meant  when  he  said  he  was  the  Son 
of  God.  Catholic  and  Protestant  believe  what  Christ 
said — that  is  what  makes  both  of  them  Christians — 
but  no  man  who  does  not  believe  what  Christ  said  has 
any  right  to  be  called  a  Christian.  Having  ceased  to 
believe,  he  has  ceased  to  be  a  Christian;  he  has  be- 
come a  mere  Socialist  bell-wether. 

Virtue  can  be  understood  only  in  terms  of  religion. 
Granted  that  there  is  a  God,  and  the  conception  of  cer- 
tain things  in  violation  of  his  law  being  evil  and  cer- 
tain other  things  in  harmony  with  his  law  being 
virtuous  becomes  a  necessary  consequence.  But  you 
cannot  destroy  a  belief  in  God  and  retain  your  concep- 
tion of  morality  any  more  than  you  can  hang  your  hat 
on  a  hook  if  there  be  no  hook. 

It  is  often  pointed  out  that  some  atheists  live  vir- 
tuous lives.  But  that  is  sorry  evidence.  Men  are  not 
all  alike  temperamentally.  Some  have  an  inclination 

[204] 


WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

toward  one  vice,  some  toward  another;  some  find 
pleasure  in  the  mere  fact  that  there  is  less  danger  in 
abstinence  than  in  indulgence.  But  when  temptation 
comes  to  the  atheist,  he  has  no  rational  ground  for 
resistance.  If  it  be  in  the  form  of  a  fair  face,  how 
easily  can  he  convince  himself  that  matrimony,  or 
whatever  obstacle  may  intervene,  is  but  a  mere  conven- 
tional superstition — a  convention  to  bend  before  which 
is  unworthy  a  bold  modern  spirit  living  in  an  age  that 
has  outgrown  its  intellectual  swaddling-clothes ! 

The  believer  in  God  may  sin — and  human  nature, 
being  weak,  does  sin — but  he  knows  he  sins,  and 
knows  that  his  religion  has  no  sympathy  for  such 
euphemisms  as  "soul-mates"  and  "affinities."  The 
law  of  God  is  the  law  of  God — to  obey  it  may  be  hard, 
but  to  obey  it  is  not  impossible. 

The  destruction  of  religion  in  a  nation  must  carry 
with  it,  then,  all  the  fruits  of  religion.  You  can't 
grow  apples  without  a  tree.  But  a  vast  attempt  to 
destroy  religion  may  have  a  secondary  consequence: 
it  may  produce  reaction.  I  think  this  is  just  what  we 
are  beholding  in  the  French  nation.  It  was  in  France 
that  infidelity  became  a  philosophy  first.  It  was  Vol- 
tairism and  Encyclopedism  that  found  political  ex- 
pression in  the  French  Revolution.  It  went  the  mad 
length  of  its  tether,  through  blood  and  bombast,  to 
the  length  of  exalting  a  poor  painted  girl  of  the  streets 
and  worshiping  her.  Poor  tinselled  hysteric — they 
called  her  the  Goddess  of  Reason,  but  the  world  will 
laugh  at  her  for  generations  as  the  Goddess  of  Ra- 
tionalism ! 

Then  came  the  reaction — Robespierre's  Supreme 

£205] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Being  festival,  then  constitutionalism,  then  absolu- 
tism— extreme  to  extreme !  So  run  things  in  France. 

Socialism  has  had  a  try  in  Paris.  Men  still  living 
remember  the  Commune.  True,  it  wasn't  a  fair  trial ; 
even  if  it  had  been  a  decent  system,  it  couldn't  have 
done  much  under  the  circumstances.  So  the  Com- 
mune didn't  do  much  or  go  far — the  murder  of  some 
nuns  and  priests  was  its  most  notable  accomplishment 
before  MacMahon's  guns  blasted  it  out. 

But  of  later  years  Socialism  has  had  a  fairer  chance. 
It  did  get  a  foothold  among  the  people,  particularly 
in  the  cities.  It  elected  deputies  from  the  depart- 
ments— numerously,  so  that  it  gained  control  of  the 
governing  chamber.  It  made  its  spokesmen  premiers ; 
it  seized  the  French  schools;  it  confiscated  the 
churches ;  it  had  its  mad  way,  and  passed  resolutions 
denying  the  existence  of  God.  This  is  what  Socialism 
meant  in  France ;  this  is  what  it  did.  There  is  an  im- 
pression in  America  that  the  separation  of  church  and 
state  in  France  meant  what  the  same  term  means  to 
us.  Protestant  America  accepted  what  was  done  as 
the  expropriation  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church 
from  public  benefices.  Protestant  writers  who  were 
on  the  scene  have  striven  in  vain  to  show  how  false  is 
this  idea.  Protestant  ministers  in  France  know  bet- 
ter what  Socialism  has  done  than  do  those  of  America, 
and  from  Protestant  no  less  than  Catholic  sources  in 
France  has  come  the  indignant  protest  against  what 
there  appears  in  its  true  light — that  of  an  attack,  not 
on  Catholicity  alone,  but  upon  belief  in  God. 

Mr.  Vance  Thompson,  Protestant  journalist,  long 
resident  in  Paris,  long-time  lover  and  student  and  in- 


WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

terpreter  of  France,  wrote  these  words  for  Every- 
body's Magazine  in  1907: 

"...  By  a  vote  of  nearly  three  to  one  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  French  nation  turned  out  the  light  in 
heaven.  It  was  a  prodigious  event.  Two  thousand 
years  a  star  stood  over  Bethlehem.  'We  have  put  out 
that  star  forever !'  cried  the  orator.  He  was  Viviani, 
a  desperate  lawyer,  politician,  journalist,  a  Socialist 
who  had  fought  his  way  to  power  with  the  ruthless 
courage  of  a  medieval  bravo.  Having  been  personally 
informed  of  the  non-existence  of  God,  he  announced 
the  fact  simply  and  frankly :  'Aye,  there  was  a  decep- 
tive light  in  heaven,  but  we  have  put  it  out  forever !' 
By  'we*  he  meant  the  brawling  cohort  grouped  at  the 
left  of  the  chamber — the  cohort  of  Socialistic  Greeds. 
...  By  'we'  Viviani  meant  all  the  Voices  and  Appe- 
tites round  the  swill-trough  of  the  state.  .  .  .  When 
the  French  chamber  passes  a  new  law  it  orders  it 
printed  on  huge  posters  and  posted  up  all  over  France 
— at  every  street  corner,  in  every  hamlet,  on  wayside 
barns  and  fences.  I  have  forgotten  which  Juarez 
rose  and  demanded  that  Viviani's  speech  should  be 
placarded  over  France ;  but  by  a  vote  of  nearly  three 
to  one  the  order  was  made.  And  for  weeks  after — 
even  to  this  day — the  walls  and  boardings  proclaimed 
the  interesting  fact  that  the  French  Assembly  had  de- 
creed the  non-existence  of  God  and  turned  out  the 
light  that  shone  once  upon  a  time  overhead.  .  .  . 
The  only  worship  they  have  is  that  of  the  trough ;  im- 
mediately after  banishing  God  from  heaven  (by  a 
vote  of  nearly  three  to  one)  they  decided  (by  a  nearly 
unanimous  vote)  to  double  their  own  salaries.  Thus, 

[207] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

having  disposed  of  the  necessary  preliminaries,  the 
Chamber  of  Deputies  went  on  about  the  business  of 
passing  laws  for  the  confiscation  of  what  property  it 
had  not  yet  taken  from  the  church." 

This  is  the  evidence  of  one  Protestant  authority.  It 
was  written  early  in  1907;  it  was  published  in  the 
March  number  of  Everybody's  of  that  year.  Two 
years  later  a  series  of  articles  on  France  and  the 
"Separation  Law"  appeared  in  the  Boston  Traveller. 
They  were  written  by  Mr.  Alvan  F.  Sanborn,  who  is 
described  by  the  Traveller  as  "a  Protestant  in  religion, 
a  native  of  Massachusetts,  who  has  devoted  all  his  life 
to  the  study  of  social  problems,  and  whose  book, 
Paris  and  the  Social  Revolution,  is  accepted  as  being 
the  last  word  on  the  description  of  the  social  forces  at 
work  in  the  French  capital." 

Because  Mr.  Sanborn's  articles  would  occupy  more 
space  than  this  little  work  can  afford,  I  shall  merely 
take  from  them  paragraphs  here  and  there.  The  fol- 
lowing is  the  first  that  arrests  my  attention : 

"A  former  principal  of  an  American  normal  school, 
who  had  made  a  life  study  of  the  educational  methods 
of  his  own  and  foreign  countries,  told  me  in  1897  or 
1898  that  a  certain  Dominican  school,  not  a  hundred 
leagues  from  Paris,  was  the  best  boys'  school  he  had 
ever  seen.  So  convinced  was  he  of  its  superiority  that, 
stern  Protestant  though  he  was,  he  confided  his 
grandson  to  it  for  a  couple  of  years.  He  never  saw 
cause  to  regret  his  action.  The  worthy  man,  who  is 
dead  now,  would  be  uneasy  in  his  grave  if  he  knew 
that  this  very  school  had  been  closed  by  an  order  of 
the  state." 

[208] 


WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

Here  is  the  second  paragraph  of  my  selection : 

"Illiteracy  is  increasing  in  France  at  a  surprising 

rate  in  consequence  of  the  closing  of  the  schools  of  the 

religious  orders,  which  the  state  is  unable  to  replace, 

and  will  be  unable  to  replace  for  a  long  while  to 


come." 


Mr.  Sanborn  bases  this  assertion  upon  a  statistical 
table  issued  by  the  Minister  of  War.  In  1905  there 
were  321,000  conscripts.  In  1907  there  were  314,000 
conscripts.  The  decrease  in  the  number  of  conscripts 
is  two  per  cent.  In  1905  the  number  of  absolute  il- 
literates recruited  was  10,644.  I*1  I9°7  it  was  11,062. 
The  increase  is  nearly  four  per  cent.  Mr.  Sanborn 
points  out  that  prior  to  1906  the  rate  of  illiteracy  had 
been  diminishing;  that  after  1906  it  increased;  and 
that  it  was  in  1906  that  the  French  army  began  to 
recruit  from  the  boys  who  were  at  school  when  the 
war  on  religious  education  broke  out. 

I  shall  pass  over  what  Mr.  Sanborn  has  to  say  rela- 
tive to  the  "laicization"  of  the  hospital  and  charitable 
institutions,  and  quote  him  with  reference  to  the  sup- 
pression of  the  industrial  schools : 

"The  World's  Fair  of  1900,"  he  says,  "furnished 
even  more  convincing  proof  of  the  importance  of  the 
part  played  by  the  church  in  providing  manual  and 
industrial  training.  The  jury  which  passed  judgment 
on  the  institutions  for  the  development  of  the  work- 
ing-people [a  jury  of  which,  by  the  v/ay,  Jane  Addams 
of  Hull  House  was  the  American  member]  awarded 
the  greater  part  of  the  prizes  to  Catholic  institutions. 
The  member  of  the  jury  to  whom  fell  the  labor  of 
preparing  its  report  said,  among  other  things:  'The 

[209] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

jury  made  just  as  pressing  appeals  to  lay  as  to  the 
religious  societies.  It  did  its  utmost  to  enlist  the 
cooperation  of  both  the  unsectarian  and  the  sectarian 
enterprises,  and  its  surprise  was  great  to  discover  the 
zeal  of  the  Catholics  and  the  indifference  of  the  laity. 
We  have  no  need  to  seek  the  cause  of  the  abstention 
of  some  and  the  enthusiasm  of  others.  Our  task  con- 
sists solely  of  judging  freely  the  exhibits  which  have 
been  presented  for  our  examination,  and  it  is  my 
duty,  after  ridding  myself  of  every  political  and  re- 
ligious preoccupation  and  influence,  to  give  the  im- 
pression made  upon  me  by  the  exhibits  sent  to  the 
Palace  of  Social  Economy  and  to  the  Catholic  Pavil- 
ion at  Vincennes.  In  the  conflict  with  the  sufferings 
of  the  people,  it  is  the  Catholics  who  have  been  the 
leaders  of  the  vanguard.  The  ameliorations  we  owe 
them  have  been  inspired  by  sentiments  of  humanity  to 
which  only  a  narrow  sectarianism  can  refuse  to  do 
justice.  We  may  hold  opinions  quite  different  from 
those  of  the  promoters  of  all  the  works  which  are  the 
subject  of  this  report  regarding  the  interpretation  of 
the  religion  of  charity  and  love  whose  treasure  of 
compassion  Christ  spread  over  the  world,  but  there  is 
not  a  person  of  good  faith  who  does  not  recognize  the 
beneficent  virtue  of  their  institutions  and  the  extent 
of  their  influence. 

"Barely  a  year,"  Mr.  Sanborn  continues,  "after  this 
brilliant  demonstration  at  the  Paris  Exposition  of  the 
tremendous  value  of  the  church  schools  in  the  training 
of  industrial  workers,  came  the  attempt  to  suppress 
them  by  the  law  against  the  congregations.  The 
broad-minded  and  ordinarily  gentle  president  of  the 


WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

jury  referred  to  above,  Anatole  Leroy-Beaulieu,  was 
roused  to  indignation  and  exclaimed :  'What  societies 
exhibited  most  in  this  class;  what  enterprises  were  the 
most  rewarded— and  God  knows  that  the  jury  named 
by  M.  Millerand  was  in  no  wise  tainted  with  clerical- 
ism? The  exhibits  which  were  the  most  numerous, 
the  exhibits  which  obtained  the  first  prizes  or  the  gold 
medals,  were  mainly  religious  and  especially  Catholic 
exhibits.  The  greatest  number  of  prizes  given  to  in- 
stitutions for  the  improvement  of  the  working-people 
were  given,  willy-nilly,  by  a  lay  jury  to  Christian  un- 
dertakings, to  the  very  societies,  to  the  very  congrega- 
tions accused  of  fomenting  ignorance  in  the  people; 
and  it  is  to  these  associations,  inspired  by  evangelical 
charity,  that  the  spirit  of  intolerance  and  sectarianism 
pretends  to  refuse  the  liberty  and  even  the  right  to 
exist,  as  if  they  were  immoral  and  anti-social  insti- 
tutions!'" 

Mr.  Sanborn's  fifth  article  opens  with  this  para- 
graph : 

"The  withdrawal  of  religious  instruction  from  the 
public  schools,  and  the  closing  of  the  schools  of  the 
religious  orders,  have  been  followed  by  an  appalling 
increase  in  crime,  particularly  juvenile  crime.  The  at- 
tempt to  substitute  the  teaching  of  morals  for  the 
teaching  of  religion  is  a  failure." 

Mr.  Sanborn  says  the  chairman  of  the  committee  on 
judiciary  reform  "recently  reported" — this  was  in 
1909 — "an  increase  of  eighty  per  cent,  since  1901  in 
the  total  number  of  crimes  in  the  country."  He 
quotes  this  from  Dr.  Gustave  Lebon,  scientist  and 
sociologist:  "Criminality  has  augmented  in  propor- 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

tions  that  are  veritably  terrifying :  thirty  per  cent,  for 
the  murders,  while  the  sum  for  the  criminality  has 
doubled  in  five  years."  Remember  that  this  is  in  1909 
— the  school-boy  of  1901,  when  the  law  against  the 
church  schools  was  promulgated,  is  now  from  sixteen 
to  twenty-three  years  of  age.  "The  average  age  of 
criminals,"  says  Mr.  Sanborn,  "is  getting  to  be 
younger  and  younger.  More  than  sixty  per  cent,  of 
the  inmates  of  the  'maisons  centrales'  are  under 
twenty-nine  years  of  age.  Many  of  the  bands  of 
'Apaches'  consist  of  boys  of  from  fourteen  to  seven- 
teen, and  their  chiefs  are  often  not  more  than  nineteen 
or  twenty." 

Readers  of  newspapers  will  consider  that  matters  in 
France  have  not  improved  much  since  Mr.  Sanborn 
wrote  the  paragraphs  just  quoted.  Twice  or  three 
times  a  week  the  newspapers  contain  despatches  rela- 
tive to  the  reign  of  terror  from  "Apaches"  in  the 
French  capital.  The  following  table  is  from  an  article 
on  the  automobile  bandits  of  Paris,  published  in  the 
New  York  Sun  of  April  14,  1912 : 


CRIMES  COMMITTED  BY  PARIS  MOTOR- 
CAR BANDITS. 

Nov.  27, 1911.     Chatelet-en-Brie. 

Chauffeur  murdered  and  automobile  stolen. 
Dec.  14, 1911.     Boulogne-sur-Seine. 

Automobile  of  M.  Norman  stolen. 
Dec.  21, 1911.     Paris. 

Attempt  to  murder  Caby,  bank  messenger,  in  the  Rue 

Ordener. 


WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

Jan.  31, 1912.      Paris. 

Bank  messenger  named  Gouy-Paillet  robbed  of  $30,000. 
Jan.  31, 1912.      Les  Aubrais,  near  Orleans. 

Freight  station  robbed ;  two  men  wounded. 
Jan.  31,1912.      Angerville. 

Revolver  battle  with  burglars  in  which  a  policeman  was 

killed  and  his  murderer  committed  suicide. 

Feb.  27, 1912.     St.  Mande. 

M.  Buisson's  automobile  stolen. 
Feb.  27, 1912.      Paris. 

Policeman  Gamier  shot  in  the  Rue  du  Havre  in  trying  to 
stop  auto  containing  bandits. 

Feb.  29, 1912.      Pontoise. 

Attempt  to  rob  the  office  of  a  notary  named  Tuitant. 
Mar.  20, 1912.     Chaton. 

Attempt  to  rob  automobile  garage. 
Mar.  25,  1912.     Montgeron. 

Chauffeur  named  Nathille  murdered  on  the  road  by  men 

who  stole  the  automobile. 

Mar.  25, 1912.     Chantilly. 

Societe    Generate' s    bank    robbed;    two    clerks    killed; 
$10,000  stolen. 


As  we  consider  the  number  and  character  of  these 
crimes  of  violence,  we  cannot  exclude  from  our  minds 
a  not  dissimilar  situation  in  New  York.  Here,  too, 
we  have  had  secularization  of  the  schools.  Here,  too, 
we  have  developed  a  class  of  young  criminals  who 
possess  nerve  and  cunning  and  utter  contempt  for 
human  life  and  all  law,  human  and  divine.  Our  police 
arrest  youths  in  the  commission  of  burglary  and  find 
them  students  in  a  Brooklyn  college  of  medicine. 
Bank  messengers  and  jewellers  are  robbed  in  the  very 
heart  of  the  Borough  of  Manhattan  by  automobile 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

bandits.  The  streets  of  New  York  are  hardly  more 
safe  in  broad  daylight  than  were  the  heaths  of  Eng- 
land when  vizored  gentlemen  rode  them  up  and  down 
after  nightfall,  a  century  and  a  half  ago.  Is  there  not 
food  for  reflection  in  the  analogy?  Will  those  who 
stand  for  the  secularized  school  in  the  name  of  prog- 
ress stop  to  think  and  ask  themselves  if  this  be  prog- 
ress? 

To  return  to  France,  where  Socialism  blew  out  the 
lights  of  heaven,  and  Mr.  Sanborn,  who  writes  from 
the  darkened  nation.  "It  must  not  be  supposed,"  he 
says,  "that  only  the  Catholics  were  troubled  by  this  on- 
slaught. The  French  Protestants  saw  so  clearly  that 
the  suppression  of  the  religious  orders  was  directed 
less  against  the  Catholic  religion  than  against  the 
Christian  idea  itself,  that  several  of  their  writers  and 
scholars,  among  them  Auguste  Sabatier,  dean  of  the 
Faculty  of  Protestant  Theology  at  Paris,  issued  a 
protest  against  the  passage  of  the  law.  The  Protes- 
tant Wilfred  Monod  published  a  sort  of  catalogue  of 
the  acts  of  intolerance,  bigotry,  sacrilege,  vulgarity, 
and  violence  of  which  the  free-thinkers  had  been 
guilty,  which  was  a  more  terrible  indictment  than  any 
Catholic,  probably,  has  drawn  up  against  them.  Even 
a  Protestant  pastor  away  off  in  the  heart  of  the 
Cevennes  was  impelled  to  cry  out :  'I  am  a  Protestant, 
but  I  am  a  Christian  before  I  am  a  Protestant!' 
Pastor  Charles  Wagner,  well  known  in  America  as 
the  author  of  The  Simple  Life,  wrote  to  a  prominent 
defender  of  the  law:  'According  to  you,  free  thought 
is  merely  anti-clerical  and  is  not  anti-religious.  This 
assertion  is  too  violently  contradicted  by  the  facts  to 


WHERE  THEY  BLEW  THE  LIGHT  OUT 

be  maintainable  except  as  a  declaration  of  an  ideal. 
The  anti-religious  spirit  is  so  emphasized  in  the  va- 
rious public  demonstrations  of  free  thought  at  which 
we  assist  that  morality  itself  is  attacked,  in  the  name 
of  intellectual  independence,  as  a  symptom  of  clerical- 
ism. The  formula,  "Neither  God  nor  master,"  which 
repudiates,  as  masters,  conscience  and  the  moral  law 
itself,  and  the  coarse  rhymes  that  are  shrieked  with 
ostentation,  permit  us  no  illusion  regarding  the  point 
at  issue/ ' 

They  have  had  secularization  of  the  schools  in 
France.  We  are  having  it  here.  They  have  had  a 
wave  of  Socialism  in  France.  We  are  having  it  here. 
Similar  causes  will  have,  everywhere  and  forever, 
similar  effects. 

But  there  is  a  new  note  in  France;  there  is  a  sign  of 
the  inevitable  reaction.  Within  half  a  year  there  has 
been  a  revival  of  the  old  French  spirit  of  patriotism. 
The  Red  Socialists,  seemingly  in  full  career,  have  met 
a  wave  of  national  sentiment  that  grows  with  every 
hour,  and  is  filling  the  Socialist  politicians  with  con- 
fusion and  dismay. 

One  of  the  last  of  Mr.  Sanborn's  articles  was 
headed,  "The  French  Still  a  Religious  People."  It 
prophesied  a  reaction.  There  are  signs  that  it  is  at 
hand.  The  high  tide  of  Socialism  in  France  has  been 
reached.  The  ebb  has  set  in. 


[215] 


CHAPTER  XI 

SOCIALISM 

THE  mind  that  is  not  strong  shuns  mental 
labor.  Reasoning  is  difficult:  it  is  as  weari- 
some for  the  intellectually  weak  to  follow 
truth  from  premise  to  premise  as  it  is  for  the  physi- 
cally weak  to  attain  a  distant  goal  step  by  step.  The 
latter  want  to  jump  at  the  goal,  the  former  at  the  con- 
clusion. This  is  the  cause  of  Socialism's  strength  and 
its  weakness  politically.  The  pull  of  truth,  that  is  like 
the  pull  of  gravitation,  is  upon  it;  as  it  swells  in  vol- 
ume and  gathers  political  strength,  it  verges  more 
and  more  from  the  wild  unreason  of  its  founders  and 
toward  the  sobriety  and  sense  of  the  facts  of  life. 
There  is  hope  in  this,  but  not  for  Socialism.  When,  as 
a  political  movement  in  this  or  any  other  country,  it 
has  become  a  formidable  contestant  for  the  control  of 
the  government,  it  will  have  abandoned  its  interna- 
tional character,  its  materialistic  philosophy,  its  eco- 
nomic vagaries.  The  substance  of  much  of  these  it  has 
already  relinquished,  although  it  clings  tenaciously 
to  the  terms  in  which  they  were  once  expressed. 
It  is  interesting  to  follow  the  unfolding  process,  to 
watch  each  successive  explication  as  it  sheds  like  de- 
caying husks  the  outer  coverings  that  were  for  a  time 
regarded  as  the  movement  itself,  revealing  with  each 
such  divestment  a  new  vesture  resembling  more 
nearly  than  its  predecessor  the  silk  hat  and  frock-coat 


SOCIALISM 

of  ordinary  humdrum  political  partisanship.  The 
early  Utopians  had  their  little  day  and  were  driven 
out  as  mad  dreamers  by  the  "scientists"  of  the  move- 
ment. History  laughs  at  the  expulsion  because  mad 
dreamers  have  successfully  maintained  cooperative 
commonwealths,  but  "scientists"  never  have  been 
able  to  do  so.  The  "scientists"  builded  their  philos- 
ophy upon  what  they  assumed  to  be  Darwin's  destruc- 
tion of  belief  in  revealed  religion.  Therefore  the 
"materialistic  conception  of  history";  therefore  the 
hatred  of  religion  as  a  device  of  the  capitalist  to  op- 
press the  proletarian;  therefore  the  solidarity  and 
class  consciousness  of  the  wage-earners ;  therefore  the 
hatred  of  patriotism  and  its  symbols  and  the  devotion 
to  internationalism  and  its  symbols;  therefore  the  re- 
duction of  all  values  to  terms  of  labor  power,  and  the 
reduction  of  all  labor  to  terms  of  physical  pressure. 
God  was  gone,  everything  was  due  to  matter ;  there- 
fore everything  must  be  materially  possessed  and  ma- 
terially enjoyed.  Over  this  phantasmagoria  of  false 
conclusions  still  gleamed  the  light  of  the  Utopian 
dream.  It  attracted  the  oppressed  and  the  generous- 
hearted  but  weak-minded ;  led  them  like  a  will-o'-the- 
wisp  into  the  wilderness.  From  it  issued  the  smell  of 
death — for  to  the  materialist  life  is  but  a  process  of 
death,  and  death  another  form  of  life — and  this  at- 
tracted the  atheists.  The  materialist  philosophy  of  it 
removed  the  moral  check  to  material  passions  and 
suggested  irresponsibility  for  their  indulgence,  and 
there  flocked  to  it  the  licentious,  hopeful  of  a  society 
in  which  they  could  "live  their  life"  and  be  unashamed 
of  what  kind  of  a  life  it  was.  God,  patriotism,  mat- 

[217;] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

rimony — none  of  these  had  a  place  in  "scientific"  so- 
cialism. 

But  the  Socialistic  party,  when  it  began  to  deal 
practically  with  facts,  became  parties,  and  these  par- 
ties are  each  day  and  hour  becoming  less  Socialistic. 
Your  modern  Socialist  teacher  has  abandoned  "the 
materialistic  conception  of  history"  by  gradations,  the 
first  of  which  was  "the  economic  interpretation  of 
history."  Spargo's  construction  of  Marx  and  Engels 
would  hardly  be  recognized  by  these  "scientists,"  I 
am  afraid.  The  politicians  of  the  movement  say  it 
isn't  necessary  to  be  an  atheist  any  longer.  As  they 
interpret  Marx's  teachings  in  a  fashion  that  would 
have  shocked  Marx,  so  they  now  assume  "evolution" 
to  mean  something  of  which  Darwin  never  dreamed. 
They  are  getting  chary  of  the  religious  issue ;  they  are 
less  stressful  with  regard  to  the  Spartan  system  of 
dealing  with  children.  We  are  still  to  have  matri- 
mony, although  there  is  still  the  suggestion  that  it  is 
going  to  be  an  easy  kind  of  matrimony.  Class  con- 
sciousness, by  modern  gloss,  means  that  we  are  all 
conscious  that  we  belong  to  the  same  class.  Inter- 
nationalism or  political  solidarity  is  gone;  the  decla- 
ration that  the  American  Socialist  party  is  of  a  piece 
with  the  world  movement  no  longer  appears  in  the 
American  Socialist  platform.  At  the  last  national 
convention  the  international  principle  went  to  smash 
on  the  question  of  Chinese  immigration.  The  Mon- 
golian proletariat  is  shut  out  of  the  world  move- 
ment. 

These  modifications  of  Socialism,  which  the  very 
laws  of  political  development  constrained  upon  it,  ren- 

[218] 


SOCIALISM 

der  it  less  dangerous  as  a  political  movement.  Every 
movement  of  a  political  nature  must  approximate  the 
real  laws  of  development  as  it  approaches  a  real  con- 
tact with  such  laws.  A  man  may  make  the  maddest 
speeches  with  respect  to  the  methods  of  operating  a 
steam-engine,  and  may  have  the  most  delightful  theo- 
ries as  to  the  mechanical  marvels  possible  with  respect 
to  such  operation,  but  when  he  gets  down  to  running 
a  real  steam-engine  he  must  run  it  the  way  it  was 
made  to  run,  and  the  value  of  his  plans  will  depend 
altogether  upon  their  coincidence  with  the  mechan- 
ical facts.  Consequently,  the  economic  dangers  of 
Socialism  are  not  as  real  as  might  be  supposed.  They 
may  do  some  temporary  damage,  but  they  can  have 
no  permanent  place  in  human  history  and  in  social 
organization.  Because,  however,  these  political  dan- 
gers are  not  real,  the  moral  dangers  must  not  be  con- 
sidered as  negligible.  Everything  that  makes  for  a 
diffusion  of  the  sense  of  obligation,  that  divests  the 
individual  of  his  accountability  and  seeks  to  spread 
that  accountability  over  the  whole  of  society,  loosens 
the  moral  system  and  opens  the  way  to  a  moral  deca- 
dence which  no  nation  has  ever  been  able  to  survive. 
Some  political  leaders  of  Socialism  to-day  may  teach 
a  certain  nebulous  doctrine  which  they  conceive  to 
be  Christianity,  but  those  who  join  the  movement 
are  given  for  study  the  books  and  pamphlets  of 
extreme  radicals  whose  teachings,  doctrinal  and 
moral,  are  opposed  to  every  tenet  that  even  the 
broadest  interpretation  will  allow  to  be  Christian. 
The  Christian  who  adopts  Socialism  as  a  political  or 
economic  plan  of  amelioration  finds  himself  in  close 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

association  with  pseudo-philosophers  who  are  even 
more  concerned  in  overturning  the  laws  of  Heaven 
than  in  subverting  the  laws  of  men.  It  is  all  very  well 
for  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lunn  to  say  that  the  literature  of 
atheism  can  do  no  harm.  The  fact  is  that  it  can  and 
does  do  harm.  The  fact  is  that  it  can  and  does  per- 
vert the  minds  of  men  who  are  easily  turned  from 
faith  in  religious  tenets  taught  them  in  childhood  to  a 
wild  license  and  irresponsibility  that  weaken  them 
morally  as  individuals,  and  politically  as  citizens  of  a 
republic. 

Socialism  represents  in  society  at  large  a  certain 
confluence  of  aberrant  thought.  If  we  can  conceive 
of  living  thought  in  the  form  of  an  effluent  from  the 
brains  of  millions  of  individual  thinkers,  we  can  visu- 
alize the  various  currents  in  the  living  intellectual  sea. 
Some  of  those  currents  represent  the  sane  thought  of 
mankind.  Others  represent  the  thought  that  swerves 
from  the  standard  of  sanity  and  is  contributed  by 
minds  differing  more  or  less  from  the  normal  mind  of 
man.  There  have  been  millions  of  these  currents  and 
eddies  in  the  intellectual  history  of  the  human  race. 
They  have  existed  in  every  age.  They  have  been  dis- 
tinguished generally  by  the  significant  terminative 
"ism."  Common,  healthy  minds  have  always  looked 
with  suspicion  upon  an  "ism."  Before  Marx  and 
Engels  the  "isms"  were  very  numerous.  Social  para- 
noia divided  itself  into  countless  little  intellectual 
kinks.  Since  Marx  and  Engels  these  little  individual 
"isms,"  in  accordance  with  the  law  of  a  psychological 
principle  of  gravity,  have  been  attracted  toward  the 
greatest  and  latest  of  all  the  "isms"  of  history.  For 

[220] 


SOCIALISM 

the  first  time  in  all  the  world  of  time,  insanity  has 
been  systematized,  organized,  and  utilized  as  a  po- 
litical dynamic. 

It  is  a  characteristic  of  paranoia  that  the  mind  so 
afflicted  is  capable  of  ratiocination.  It  isn't  in  deduc- 
tion that  the  paranoiac  goes  astray.  It  is  always  his 
premises  that  are  inaccurately  framed.  Socialist 
literature  presents  a  startling  analogy  here.  It  has 
dazzled  a  great  many  men  with  its  logic.  Its  prem- 
ises, however,  are  always  found  to  be  illusory.  It  is 
this  quality  that  has  given  the  new  "ism"  its  astonish- 
ing vogue  in  the  colleges  and  universities.  The  pro- 
portion of  university  thought  that  differs  from  the 
normal  takes  naturally  and  eagerly  to  Socialism. 
Man's  limited  knowledge  compels  him  to  start  all  his 
reasoning  processes  with  an  assumption  of  some  kind. 
He  must  assume  some  undemonstrated,  and  quite 
possibly  undemonstrable,  hypothesis  to  be  true.  Na- 
ture seems  to  provide  those  who  are  sane  with  an 
instinct  which  guards  them  against  serious  error.  It 
is  the  lack  of  this  instinct  that  makes  the  "Intellec- 
tual" paranoiac.  Consequently,  the  recently  fashion- 
able theories  which  were  the  exigents  of  the  science 
of  half  a  century  ago  have  been  unquestioningly  ac- 
cepted as  a  philosophical  basis  by  the  so-called  "Intel- 
lectuals" of  our  universities.  These  theories,  which 
took  the  form  of  monism,  or  a  belief  in  the  universal- 
ity of  matter  in  this  universe  of  ours,  very  naturally 
led  to  the  political  and  economic  philosophical  for- 
mula which  has  become  more  and  more  prominent 
within  the  last  years  as  Socialism.  No  student  of  the 
subject  can  read  without  complete  bewilderment  the 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

various  and  contradictory  definitions  of  Socialism 
which  are  given  to  the  public  by  the  Intellectuals  of 
the  movement.  According  to  Bax,  it  means  the  cast- 
ing of  religion  into  the  limbo  of  outused  superstitions. 
According  to  Washington  Gladden,  it  means  the 
strengthening  of  the  religious  spirit  and  the  putting 
into  practice  of  ideals  that  have  hitherto  existed  no- 
where but  in  religion.  According  to  Spargo  in  one 
paragraph,  it  is  not  hostile  but  friendly  to  religion. 
According  to  Spargo  in  another  paragraph,  its  friend- 
liness will  consist  in  taking  children  from  their  moth- 
ers and  having  them  educated  by  the  state,  without 
the  slightest  suggestion  of  religion,  until  they  reach 
an  age  when  their  minds  are  capable  of  understanding 
what  theology  is  and  what  effect  upon  it  the  conclu- 
sions drawn  from  physical  phenomena  must  neces- 
sarily have.  According  to  Hillquit  and  Benson,  it 
conserves  the  family,  which  capitalism  has  destroyed. 
According  to  Bebel,  the  family  is  a  development  of 
the  capitalist  system,  and  can  no  more  survive  capital 
than  can  poverty. 

No  two  exponents  of  Socialism  to-day  agree  as  to 
what  it  means  in  their  written  works.  Each  of  them 
has  his  own  view,  colored  by  his  temperamental  pecu- 
liarities, his  desires,  his  affections,  and  his  hatreds. 
Each  of  them  takes  the  original  formulation  of  Marx 
and  Engels  and  bends  it  to  suit  his  own  inclination 
and  purpose.  It  is  only  when  each  of  them  is  studied, 
when  each  of  them  is  analyzed,  when  each  of  them  is 
probed  to  the  bottom  of  his  thought,  that  there  is 
found  in  both  of  them  the  common  attribute  of  all 
"Intellectual"  Socialists,  which  is  a  materialistic  con- 

C222] 


SOCIALISM 

ception  of  history  and  belief  in  the  absolute  deter- 
minative power  of  the  economics  of  human  life. 

What  is  the  basic  idea  of  Socialistic  philosophy?  It 
is  that  society  is  an  organism.  The  idea  is  that  it  is  an 
organism,  just  as  man  is  an  organism.  Man  is  a  com- 
posite of  smaller  organisms.  He  is  a  collection  of 
cells.  Society  is  a  composite  of  human  organisms.  It 
is  a  collection  of  men  and  women.  That  is  the  idea. 
The  individual  isn't  responsible :  it  is  the  social  organ- 
ism that  errs.  If  an  individual  commits  a  crime,  it  is 
his  social  environment  that  is  at  fault.  Having  set  up 
this  hypothesis,  Socialist  philosophy  goes  on  to  the 
question  of  reforming  the  social  organism.  It  has 
lost  interest  in  the  individual. 

Now  let  us  examine  this  in  the  light  of  common  ex- 
perience and  common  sense.  Let  us  get  out  of  the 
mist  of  "economic  determinism"  and  "materialistic  in- 
terpretations," and  other  obscurities  and  ambiguities, 
and  into  the  clear  light  of  homely  human  every-day 
experience.  Let  us  consider  one  huge  difference  be- 
tween the  social  organism  and  the  human  organism 
which  Socialism  seems  to  have  overlooked.  In  the 
human  organism  the  sum  thinks  of  its  factors :  in  the 
social  organism  the  factors  think  of  the  sum.  Man 
thinks  of  himself  as  a  psychological  entity.  Your 
brain-cells  and  heart-cells  and  stomach-cells  do  not 
think  of  you:  you  think  of  them.  You  realize  that 
they  are  all  parts  of  you.  Your  individual,  complete 
consciousness  and  will  combine  them  all.  There  is  no 
class  consciousness  in  your  make-up,  unless  rheuma- 
tism be  class  consciousness  in  your  legs.  In  you  there 
is  unity.  But  society!  What  is  social  consciousness? 

[223  ^ 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Where  is  it?  How  does  it  function?  Try  to  think 
this  out  for  yourself.  Is  there  any  such  thing?  You 
may  answer  that  society  acts  in  the  laws.  It  doesn't, 
and  you  know  it  doesn't.  It  is  always  some  individual 
mind  acting,  and  other  minds  agreeing.  Who  makes 
the  laws?  The  legislature.  A  man  draws  a  bill  and 
his  associates  agree  to  it.  Then  it  becomes  a  law. 
One  individual,  or  more  than  one,  want  this  or  these 
changes  made,  and  each  change  represents  an  indi- 
vidual will.  Who  interprets  the  law?  An  individual 
judge.  Who  passes  upon  the  evidence?  Twelve  in- 
dividual jurors,  each  with  his  individual  brain  and 
will.  The  individual  human  organism  that  thinks  is 
always  the  thing  that  is  conscious.  It  thinks  about 
what  it  contains  on  one  side,  and  what  contains  it  on 
the  other.  A  man's  cells  do  not  think  about  him :  he 
thinks  about  them.  Society  doesn't  think  about  men : 
men  think  about  society.  The  individual  is  a  concrete 
thing ;  society,  an  abstraction.  An  individual  can  do 
wrong,  or  do  right;  what  society  does  is  only  what 
many  individuals  do.  Therefore  there  is  no  respon- 
sibility in  society,  but  there  is  responsibility  in  each 
human  soul. 

It  would  be  impossible,  within  the  brief  confines  of 
this  chapter,  to  deal  with  each  of  the  absurdities  of 
Socialism.  A  few  of  them,  however,  may  be  briefly 
treated. 

Socialism  distinguishes  between  use  values  and  ex- 
change values.  The  fact  that  a  thing  created  ministers 
to  the  satisfaction  or  necessity  of  its  possessor  gives  it 
a  use  value.  Socialism  says  air  has  a  use  value  but  no 
exchange  value :  a  use  value  because  all  men  need  it  to 

C224U 


SOCIALISM 

live,  but  no  exchange  value  because  there  is  so  much 
of  it  that  each  man  can  get  it  for  nothing.  This  is  a 
favorite  Socialist  illustration.  Air,  they  say,  is  not  a 
commodity.  A  commodity  must  have  an  exchange 
value.  It  is  exchange  value  that  makes  profit  possible. 
And  it  is  profit  that  is  evil.  We  might  pause  here  to 
ask  if  the  use  value  is  not  simply  a  product  of  the  So- 
cialist term-factory.  Why  call  it  a  value  at  all?  It  is 
not  measurable,  and  a  value,  in  the  sense  in  which 
Socialists  use  the  term  value,  must  be  measurable. 
When  they  use  the  term  exchange  value  they  mean  a 
value  measurable  in  the  medium  of  exchange.  A  sheik 
of  the  desert  has  fifty  camels.  Two  or  three  of  them 
can  have  a  use  value.  The  rest  are  the  measure  of  his 
wealth.  A  Hebrew  patriarch  has  flocks  of  sheep.  A 
few  of  them  have  a  use  value.  The  rest  are  the  meas- 
ure of  his  wealth.  The  sheik,  by  the  surplus  above  the 
camels  he  can  ride,  and  the  patriarch,  by  the  surplus 
above  the  sheep  he  can  eat  or  shear,  has  the  power  to 
purchase  other  things  he  may  desire.  So  was  Ibrahim 
of  the  sandy  plains  a  capitalist;  so  was  David,  the  son 
of  Jesse,  a  capitalist;  so  is  every  human  being  to-day 
who  possesses  a  thing  which  others  desire,  and  which 
he  does  not  require  to  live,  a  capitalist. 

Value  is  what  men  will  pay  for  a  thing  they  need  or 
desire.  Economically  it  is  governed  by  the  utility  of 
the  commodity  in  relation  to  its  difficulty  of  attain- 
ment. Diamonds,  which  cannot  be  eaten,,  and  the 
sight  of  which  awakens  a  pleasurable  sensation  in  not 
all  human  beings,  have  a  value  greater  than  food, 
without  which  no  man  can  live.  This  is  because  food 
is  easier  to  procure.  A  singer  can  command  a  salary 

£225;] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

of  many  thousands  of  dollars  an  hour,  while  a  maker 
of  clothes  must  labor  for  a  few  cents  an  hour.  This  is 
because  the  song  of  the  singer  is  more  intensely  ap- 
preciated and  less  readily  procurable.  Is  the  inequal- 
ity— the  injustice  Socialists  call  it — that  pays  a 
pittance  for  the  hard  toil  of  the  mill-worker  and  a  for- 
tune for  the  few  hours  of  the  singer  a  thing  of  mere 
laws?  No.  Then  how  are  you  to  cure  it  by  laws? 
Is  there  compulsion  now  upon  society  to  pay  a  large 
wage  to  one  kind  of  worker  and  a  small  wage  to  an- 
other? No.  Then  how  are  you  going  to  relieve  a 
compulsion  that  does  not  exist?  The  impulse  is  in 
human  nature.  It  is  in  the  souls  of  individuals.  It  is 
of  the  very  essence  of  the  human  make-up. 

This  question  of  values  is  one  of  the  pet  themes  of 
the  Socialist  economist.  Huge  volumes  have  been 
devoted  to  proving  that  labor  is  entitled  to  all  the 
value  that  labor  creates.  That  is  a  good  mouth- 
filling  phrase  which  rolls  fluently  from  the  tongue 
of  the  soap-box  orator  and  catches  the  interest 
and  the  sympathy  of  the  man  who  toils.  But  to 
the  toiler  it  has  a  meaning  far  different  from  that 
laboriously  explained  in  Socialist  writings.  Although 
the  soap-box  Socialist  does  not  mention  it,  the  "Intel- 
lectual" insists  that  Marx  and  his  associates  did  not 
mean  that  every  shoemaker  was  entitled  to  the  value 
of  all  the  shoes  he  could  make.  "Social  labor"  is  what 
Marx  meant.  "Social  labor"  is  what  becomes  value 
when  embodied  in  a  useful  or  desirable  article.  And 
the  "social  labor"  that  enters  into  the  shirt  you 
bought  is  not  the  labor  of  the  mill-hands  who  worked 
the  machinery  by  which  it  was  woven,  nor  the  labor 

O6] 


SOCIALISM 

of  the  sweatshop  worker  who  sewed  it,  nor  that  of  the 
cutter  who  cut  it,  nor  that  of  the  buttonmaker;  but  is 
vastly  more  than  all  these.  It  reaches  out  to  embrace 
the  cotton-grower  and  his  laborers,  and  the  builder 
who  builded  the  mill,  and  the  brick-maker  who  made 
the  brick,  and  the  machinist  who  assembled  the  looms 
and  the  spinning  machinery,  and  the  mechanics  who 
made  the  parts,  and  the  railroad  hands  that  aided  in 
transportation,  and  so  on  infinitely  in  every  direction, 
to  the  mother  who  bore  all  these  and  their  mothers 
before  them.  "Social  labor"  is  a  symbol  for  an  in- 
finity. It  is  immeasurable.  But  this  symbol  equals 
value,  they  insist.  Well,  let  it  be  so.  How,  then,  by 
the  statement,  or  even  the  proof,  of  this  does  Social- 
ism help  the  toiler?  The  question  is  not  one  of  con- 
glomeration but  of  distribution.  It  is  not  to  prove 
that  an  infinite  number  of  immeasurable  contributial 
values  constitute  a  measured  value  that  is  impor- 
tant: it  is  the  fair  distribution  of  a  measured  value 
among  the  men  who  contributed  their  labor  to  the 
creation  of  the  product.  That  is  what  will  help  the 
world.  That  is  what  humanity  needs.  What  good 
does  it  do  to  prove  that  labor  multiplied  by  x  made  a 
watch?  The  value  of  the  watch  is  what  men  will  pay 
for  it.  It  may  be  twenty  dollars  or  one  hundred  dol- 
lars. The  problem  is  the  distribution  of  that  sum 
justly,  x  equals  y  will  not  do.  It  is  not  x  with  whom 
you  are  dealing ;  it  is  a  certain  John  Jones  who  has  a 
mouth  of  his  own  to  fill,  and  a  wife  and  children,  all  of 
whom  have  likewise  mouths  to  fill.  And  John  Jones 
cannot  be  fed  on  the  symbols  of  unknown  quantities. 
He  cannot  live  on  algebraic  terms  any  more  than  you 

[227] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

can  put  a  five-dollar  bill  in  the  pocket  of  an  algebraic 
term.  John  Jones  must  get  a  definite  measurable  frac- 
tion of  the  measured  value  of  that  watch.  He  can  eat 
a  fifth  or  a  tenth  of  a  loaf  of  bread,  but  he  cannot  eat 
a  square  root.  He  can  live  in  half  or  one-tenth  of  a 

house,  but  not  in  *.    Toilers,  this  huge  humbug  has 

y 

nothing  for  you.  You  ask  for  bread,  and  it  gives  you 
a  quadratic  equation. 

The  pendulum  of  nonsense  having  swung  to  one 
extreme,  it  now  goes  to  the  other.  Mr.  Allan  Benson 
writes  a  series  of  articles  on  Socialism  for  Pearson's 
Magazine.  Perhaps  Mr.  Hillquit  and  Mr.  Spargo 
would  not  admit  that  they  represent  Socialist  teach- 
ing at  all.  But  they  do  catch  votes.  For  Mr.  Benson 
does  not  deal  in  #'s  and  y's.  He  finds  it  just  as  easy  to 
substitute  the  word  "dollars"  for  the  algebraic  sym- 
bols. There  is  an  advantage  in  this,  for  the  man  in 
the  street  knows  what  a  dollar  is.  And  there  is  no 
disadvantage,  for  as  long  as  Mr.  Benson  is  dealing 
with  the  word  "dollars,"  and  not  with  real  dollars,  it  is 
just  as  easy  to  perform  interesting  feats  of  legerde- 
main. So  Mr.  Benson,  instead  of  talking  of  "social 
labor,"  announces  cheerfully  that  under  the  coopera- 
tive commonwealth  every  worker  is  to  get  the  equiv- 
alent of  $5000  a  year.  That  has  a  pleasant  sound. 
Every  man  who  earns  less  than  $5000  a  year  will  surely 
vote  for  that.  There  are  ninety  million  people  in  the 
United  States.  I  have  not  the  census  reports  at  hand, 
but  shall  make  a  liberal  allowance  for  children  (who 
are  to  be  cared  for  by  the  state,  and  are  probably  to 
get  less  than  $5000  a  year)  and  reduce  the  number  of 


SOCIALISM 

$5oooa-year  individuals  to  45,000,000.  At  $5000  a 
year  the  American  payroll  would  total  $225,000,000,- 
ooo.  Only  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  billions  of 
dollars.  Such  is  the  "stuff  that  dreams  are  made  of." 
Such  is  the  stuff,  also,  that  Socialist  votes  are  made  of. 
Common  ownership  of  productive  machinery  seems 
to  be  a  solid  in  the  fluidity  of  Socialism.  It  looks  like 
something  you  can  get  hold  of.  Let  us  see.  Handle 
it  gently,  for  it  isn't  very  far  from  the  fluid  state. 
What  does  it  mean?  What  is  "productive  machin- 
ery" ?  We  have  the  word  of  some  modern  American 
Socialists — Mr.  Spargo,  Mr.  Hillquit,  and  Dr.  Lunn 
among  them — that  it  is  not  a  spade,  or  a  saw,  or  a 
hammer,  or  a  seamstress's  domestic  sewing-machine. 
It  is  machinery  such  as  is  used  in  manufacture  by  the 
manufacturing  corporations.  We  are  not  going  to 
take  his  saw  from  the  carpenter,  nor  his  hammer  from 
the  blacksmith.  We  are  going  into  the  Steel-trust 
mill  to  take  its  huge  equipment,  and  with  that  equip- 
ment we  are  going  to  produce  railroad  tracks,  and  the 
framework  of  buildings,  and  the  countless  other 
things  which  the  Steel  Trust  now  produces.  There  is 
to  be  no  change  in  production ;  there  will  be  the  pud- 
dling and  the  rolling  and  the  moulding,  and  all  the 
processes  to  which  steel  is  subjected.  But  in  the  dis- 
tribution it  will  be  different.  We  are  producing  for 
use  now,  not  for  profit.  We  shall  so  set  our  prices 
that  each  man  employed  in  our  huge  plant  will  get  a 
salary  of  $5000  a  year.  Puddler,  roller,  water-boy, 
engine-tender,  oiler,  stoker,  foreman,  superintendent, 
salesman,  office  messenger,  bookkeeper — all  of  these 
are  to  get  out  of  the  value  they  create  the  equivalent 

£229] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

of  $5000  per  annum.  There  are  two  hundred  thou- 
sand of  them.  It  means  $1,000,000,000  a  year  for  our 
product.  It  is  like  giving  the  stuff  away.  But  wait. 
We  forgot  something.  We  have  taken  over  the  rail- 
road, and  there  are  some  thousands  employed  there 
who  must  get  the  $5000  a  year  which  Mr.  Benson  has 
fixed  as  the  living  wage.  Of  course  we  shall  have  to 
pay  for  that.  Then  there  are  the  plant  betterments 
with  our  five-thousand-dollar-a-year  craftsmen  and 
unskilled  laborers,  and  we  have  to  get  their  money  out 
of  our  income  on  the  products ;  and  the  five-thousand- 
a-year  miner,  and  the  five-thousand-a-year  helpers — 
all  these  must  be  figured  in.  It  will  add  something  to 
the  cost  of  steel.  Then  we  must  all  have  five-thou- 
sand-a-year wives  and  five-thousand-a-year  servants, 
for  everybody  is  in  on  this.  It  will  add  something, 
I'm  afraid,  to  the  price  of  steel.  The  whole  thing  is  to 
be  democratically  managed.  We  are  going  to  deter- 
mine every  question  by  vote.  Here  is  one  now ;  let  us 
determine  it.  Boris  Humphniak  says  puddling  is  a 
hot,  hard  job,  and  he  doesn't  see  why  he  should  blister 
and  sweat  while  Reginald  Carnegie  just  sits  in  a  cool 
office  talking  to  a  stenographer.  Comrade  Carnegie 
explains  to  Comrade  Humphniak  that  the  Carnegie 
labor  is  necessary  directive  labor,  and  can  be  per- 
formed in  the  office,  while  the  Humphniak  labor  is 
manual  labor  and  must  be  performed  in  the  puddling- 
room.  Comrade  Humphniak  cannot  see  it.  He  says 
each  man  ought  to  take  his  turn  at  puddling  and  at 
superintending.  Let  us  vote  on  it.  There  are  a  thou- 
sand puddlers,  one  superintendent.  The  vote  is  a 
thousand  to  one  for  the  Humphniak  proposition. 

[230] 


SOCIALISM 

Comrade  Carnegie  goes  down  to  the  puddling-room, 
tries  to  puddle  (to  the  intense  joy  of  the  other  pud- 
dlers,  who  cease  labor  in  order  to  enjoy  his  weak  and 
inefficient  attempts  at  puddling),  and,  blinded  and  ex- 
hausted, overturns  a  vat  of  molten  metal;  whereat 
those  who  survive  are  sorry,  and  those  who  do  not — 
among  whom  is  Comrade  Carnegie — do  not  care  any 
more.  Meanwhile  Comrade  Humphniak  goes  into 
the  office,  lights  a  cigar,  and  neglects  to  give  some 
orders ;  as  a  result  of  which  f orgetf ulness  on  his  part 
the  mill  burns  down.  So  labor  gets  what  labor 
creates.  "The  Revolution"  is  accomplished :  there  is 
no  profit. 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

IN  the  very  opening  words  of  that  address  whose 
sentences,  few  in  number  but  tremendous  in 
power,  gleam  in  letters  of  light  from  a  dark  and 
troubled  page  of  our  history,  Abraham  Lincoln  said 
that  our  fathers  had  brought  forth  on  this  continent  a 
nation  "conceived  in  liberty  and  dedicated  to  the 
proposition  that  all  men  are  created  equal." 

There  had  come  a  great  test,  he  said,  a  mighty  or- 
deal to  try  out  the  question  whether  that  nation,  or 
any  other  nation  so  conceived  and  dedicated,  could 
endure.  His  closing  words  were  an  exhortation  to 
the  American  people  to  resolve  that  the  huge  sacrifice 
of  patriot  life  should  not  be  made  a  vain  and  fruitless 
sacrifice,  "that  this  nation,  under  God,  shall  have  a 
new  birth  of  freedom,  and  that  government  of  the 
people,  by  the  people,  for  the  people,  shall  not  perish 
from  the  earth." 

"Under  God!"  When  a  great  man  greatly  ex- 
presses a  great  truth,  he  sets  a  stumbling-block  in  the 
path  of  every  falsehood  that  ever  was  or  ever  will  be. 
When  that  clear,  simple,  sublime  mind  contemplated 
what  was,  what  had  been,  and  what  was  to  be — a  na- 
tion sundered  by  a  great  bleeding  wound,  a  nation  ani- 
mated from  its  birth  by  the  spirit  of  freedom  and  no 
more  capable  of  growth  and  power  with  any  other 
spirit  than  would  one  man  be  with  the  soul  of  another, 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

a  nation  which  was  painfully  but  completely  to  cut 
out  the  cancerous  growth  that  threatened  its  life— he 
uttered  the  protest  I  have  quoted  against  the  lie  that 
in  a  free  nation  any  man  can  be  the  chattel  of  another. 

The  moral  evils  that  were  in  front  of  him,  that  he 
could  see  and  touch,  were  human  slavery  and  fratri- 
cidal war.  But  the  truth  he  erected  as  a  shield  for  the 
nation  against  them  is  to  serve  also  as  a  shield  for  the 
nation  against  another  and  a  deadlier  peril  that  has 
come  in  another  generation. 

What  was  this  conception  of  liberty  and  this  dedica- 
tion to  the  proposition  that  all  men  are  created  equal? 
It  was  a  new  thing  in  the  world.  There  had  been 
other  governments  conceived  in  liberty,  but  in  all  the 
history  of  the  world  there  had  been  no  government 
dedicated  to  the  proposition  that  all  men  are  created 
equal. 

The  Greek  and  Roman  democracies  are,  when  they 
are  closely  examined,  very  narrow  indeed.  Under  the 
society  which  exercised  the  power  of  government  was 
a  great  menial  class,  a  servile  foundation  upon  which 
society  was  builded.  There  were  artisans  and  trades- 
men who  were  free,  but  labor  as  such  was  shackled,  a 
huge  bondsman  that  builded  and  delved,  and  that  had 
no  rights — that  was,  in  the  dominant  opinion  of  the 
day,  on  the  level  of  the  brutes. 

And  this  servile  class,  this  great  mass  of  human 
labor,  was  greater  than  all  the  rest  in  bulk — among 
the  Greeks  the  slave  class  at  one  time  constituted 
nine-tenths  of  the  population. 

For  centuries,  however,  even  the  approach  to  de- 
mocracy that  the  Greeks  and  Romans  knew  had  been 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

but  a  memory.  The  world  lived  according  to  the  op- 
posing political  principle.  The  thought  that  lay  back 
of  social  organization  was  that  men  had  been  created 
unequal,  that  some  were  born  to  govern  and  some  to 
slave;  the  former  were  the  select  few,  the  latter  the 
great  mass.  The  aristocracy  was  entitled  by  right  to 
the  profit  of  the  fields,  to  preference  before  the  courts 
and  in  the  halls  of  government;  the  mass  was  just  a 
beast  of  burden,  base,  ignoble,  unworthy  of  considera- 
tion by  the  superior  men. 

Among  all  the  peoples  of  the  world  the  principle  of 
government  was  the  principle  of  privilege.  There  had 
been  something  to  temper  all  this — the  humanity  of 
those  in  power,  and,  more  important  than  all  else,  the 
influences  of  the  Church  of  Christ;  for  the  justice  of 
God,  unlike  the  justice  of  man,  held  all  men  created 
equal. 

It  was  a  divine  ideal,  then,  that  our  fathers  put  into 
the  new  nation.  It  was  to  a  divine  purpose  that  they 
dedicated  this  republic.  Men  were  to  be  free  and 
equal.  Not  equal  in  material  things,  but  in  moral 
things.  The  vote  of  every  man  was  to  be  equal  to 
that  of  every  other  man  in  the  governing  of  the  state. 
The  cause  of  every  man  was  to  be  as  sacred  in  the 
courts  of  the  land  as  that  of  every  other  man. 

Not  equal  in  physical  strength,  nor  yet  in  intel- 
lectual strength,  nor  yet  in  circumstances  of  material 
wealth,  but  as  a  moral  being,  as  an  entity  before  the 
law  of  the  land  as  before  the  justice  of  heaven,  as  a 
unit  in  government,  each  man  was  born  with  the  right 
of  equality.  For  this  was  a  nation  "under  God,"  as 
Lincoln  said. 

C2343 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

There  was  another  conception  in  liberty,  another 
dedication  to  equality,  which,  however,  was  not  "under 
God."  It  was  under  rationalism,  under  the  philosophy 
that  takes  human  reason  out  of  a  man's  noddle  and 
sets  it  on  his  altar,  that  ceases  to  use  it  because  wor- 
shiping it,  that  deifies  it,  substituting  it  for  the  living 
God. 

There  were  two  revolutions.  Almost  as  if  it  were 
designed  as  a  lesson  to  humanity,  they  are  set  side  by 
side.  So  close  are  they  in  time  that  some  of  the  prin- 
cipal actors  in  the  one  great  drama  are  principal  ac- 
tors in  the  other. 

They  are  set  down  in  history's  page  like  two  sums 
in  mathematics  side  by  side,  so  that  we  can  see  the 
factors  and  contrast  the  products.  It  is  as  if  God  said 
to  us,  "Here  is  the  demonstration.  See  how,  these 
factors  chosen,  this  is  the  result,  and  these  other  fac- 
tors chosen,  that  is  the  result." 

What  is  the  most  significant  thing  we  see  as  we 
look  at  those  two  portentous  examples  in  political 
arithmetic?  Why,  this — America  has  no  Voltaire! 
There  is  no  sneering,  brilliant,  God-denying  mind 
to  dominate  completely  the  mind  of  the  nation. 
America  has  no  Encyclopedists,  no  Intellectuals  to 
interpose  their  cheap  hand-made  philosophy  between 
a  suffering  people  crushed  down  and  brutalized  by 
cruel  privilege  and  the  light  of  heaven ;  to  substitute 
their  joke-books  and  epigrams  for  the  commandments 
of  God. 

If  France  before  the  Revolution  was  "a  despotism 
tempered  by  epigrams,"  during  the  Revolution  it  was 
a  mobocracy  distempered  by  epigrams. 

£235] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Here,  then,  is  a  difference  between  the  moving  fac- 
tors. In  France  there  was  infidelity ;  in  America  there 
was  a  belief  in  God.  France  was  a  nation  under  Vol- 
tairism; America  was  a  nation  "under  God." 

See  how  these  two  factors  worked  as  the  problem 
became  involved.  In  America  a  Congress  assembled, 
as  in  France  a  parliament  of  the  Three  Estates.  In 
America  this  Congress,  sane,  sober,  stern,  governs  the 
nation  in  revolt  until  the  work  is  done,  and  the  marvel- 
lous new  government  dedicated  to  the  proposition  that 
all  men  are  created  equal  is  a  vital  fact  in  the  world. 

In  that  Congress  statesmen  and  patriots  are  devel- 
oped, men  of  the  common  people  who  can  devise  an 
instrument  of  government  that  has  stood  the  test  of 
time.  Not  superior  men,  not  sneerers  at  faith  in  God, 
not  Intellectuals,  but  men  out  of  the  ranks,  wise,  prac- 
tical and  inspired  makers  of  a  nation,  whose  every 
official  declaration  is  a  profession  of  faith  in  the  wis- 
dom and  justice  of  the  Most  High. 

But  in  that  French  parliament  is  such  a  gathering 
of  self-seeking  demagogues  as  never  before  the  world 
has  seen ;  cheap,  rabid,  hating  and  hate-inspiring  poli- 
ticians, rats  that  struggle  and  gnaw  and  squeal  in  the 
recesses  of  that  rotting  body  which  they  are  tearing 
down.  Wit  against  wit,  vanity  against  vanity,  ambi- 
tion against  ambition,  selfishness  against  selfishness, 
it  was  a  government  gone  completely  mad,  shifting 
and  veering  at  each  noisy  gust  from  the  lungs  of  a 
bar-room  statesman  inspired  of  a  sudden  with  a  plan 
for  making  all  men  happy.  Under  rationalism,  Lib- 
erty has  gone  insane. 

These  two  huge  dramas  have  each  its  principal  hu- 

£236] 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

man  character,  its  man  of  whom  all  the  world  thinks 
when  the  world  thinks  of  the  drama.  The  nation 
under  God  had  Washington,  patriot  and  statesman, 
whose  name  was  a  glory  even  among  his  enemies. 
The  nation  under  rationalism  had  Napoleon,  con- 
queror and  despot,  bloodied  to  his  boot-tops,  filling 
Europe  with  fire  and  slaughter  until  his  red  and  drip- 
ping star  sank  forever  behind  the  lurid  cannon  smoke 
of  Waterloo. 

And  now  let  us  consider  the  products,  the  two  an- 
swers worked  out  by  these  two  examples  in  political 
arithmetic.  The  nation  under  philosophy  ended  its 
huge  struggle  in  a  despotism  not  even  tempered  by 
epigrams.  Drained  of  its  best  blood,  weakened  in 
heart  and  in  limbs,  foreign  kings  riding  at  the  head  of 
their  squadrons  into  its  capital  at  will,  the  mass 
crushed  down  again  and  privilege  enthroned  again, 
nothing  left  of  that  great  hope  that  raised  it  in  revolu- 
tion except  the  insanity,  the  Voltairism  which  is  still 
at  work. 

But  the  nation  "under  God"  has  kept  democracy 
alive,  has  advanced  all  the  time,  standing  up  against 
that  bloody  back-wash  of  the  French  Revolution  that 
rocked  every  other  government;  attracting  to  itself 
the  oppressed  of  all  the  world,  destroying  human 
slavery  when  that  evil,  grown  strong,  conflicted  with 
the  very  purpose  of  its  being;  crushing  out  bigotry  so 
that  now  Protestant  and  Catholic  and  Jew  sit  down  at 
the  same  board  to  do  honor  to  their  brother  American 
who  has  been  elevated  to  the  cardinalate  of  his  church. 
This  is  the  fruit  of  a  conception  in  liberty  and  a  dedi- 
cation to  equality  of  a  nation  "under  God." 

[237:] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

These  two  things  are  side  by  side,  as  I  have  said, 
and  yet  there  is  a  philosophy  that  cannot  read  the  les- 
son as  it  is  written.  Little  by  little  that  philosophy 
has  made  headway  in  this  country.  It  is  not  indig- 
enous. The  Irish  potato  is  an  American  vegetable, 
you  know,  but  rationalism  is  not.  It  is  something  that 
has  been  transplanted  from  the  old  world,  where  it 
grows  rank  in  the  shadow  of  privilege.  Free  men  are 
rarely  "free  thinkers."  You  will  always  find  tyranny 
and  Voltairism  close  together.  And  this  modern  ra- 
tionalism is  nothing  but  warmed-over  Voltairism,  al- 
though its  political  manifestation  is  not  in  precisely 
the  same  form.  Analysis  was  the  social  cure-all  of  the 
Voltaire  period.  They  were  going  to  make  all  men 
happy  by  taking  things  apart. 

And,  truly,  they  went  the  full  logical  length  of  the 
formula.  Not  satisfied  with  the  stage  at  which  Intel- 
lectualism  would  pause — the  taking  apart  of  aristoc- 
racy— the  mob  took  the  aristocrats  apart  also;  and 
having  taken  monarchy  apart,  they  must  also  take  a 
monarch  apart. 

And  what  then?  Why,  then  the  discovery  by  the 
hungry  millions  that  "Victorious  Analysis,"  as  Carlyle 
puts  it,  "bakes  no  bread." 

This  formula  having  been  found  of  no  fruit,  there- 
fore, rationalism  sets  up  another,  a  new  make-believe 
for  victims  of  social  injustice,  which  it  calls  Socialism. 
It  came  out  of  the  sick  thought  of  atheists  who  looked 
into  themselves  and  thought  they  saw  a  universe.  Its 
fundamental  assertion  is  that  there  is  no  God. 

This  is  what  is  meant  by  the  "materialistic  concep- 
tion of  history,"  this  is  what  they  mean  by  their  "eco- 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

nomic  determinism."  "God  is  a  reflex  of  economic 
conditions,"  they  say ;  that  is,  a  ruling  class  invented 
him  and  preached  him  to  keep  a  servile  class  in  sub- 
jection. 

A  child  may  laugh  at  the  absurdity  of  such  a  state- 
ment. Think  of  it !  Back  in  the  dim  past,  when,  they 
would  make  us  believe,  men  were  just  beginning  to  be 
men  and  leaving  off  being  monkeys,  some  particularly 
wise  anthropoid  ape,  some  J.  P.  Morgan  among  the 
"missing  links,"  conceived  this  vast  deception  in  order 
that  he  might  get  the  milk  in  the  cocoanut,  and  his 
tailed,  or  rather  recently  detailed,  brethren  might  be 
satisfied  with  the  husks ! 

The  men  who  say  their  illuminated  reason  cannot 
accept  the  idea  of  a  God  ask  us  to  believe  that;  and 
ask  us  to  believe  that  the  thing  was  kept  up  through 
all  the  intervening  ages,  and  that  it  is  a  huge,  hoary 
imposture.  Why,  if  it  were  an  imposture,  it  was  one 
so  vast,  so  tremendous,  so  obviously  beyond  human 
cunning,  that  none  but  a  God  could  create  or  sus- 
tain it. 

With  as  broad  a  lie  as  that  for  a  foundation,  they 
had  room  to  build  anything.  And  they  have  builded  a 
weird  thing:  Karl  Marx  has  evolved  from  his  inner 
consciousness  some  shadow  of  a  shadow  which  he 
calls  a  labor-hour.  What  is  it?  Perhaps— although  I 
doubt  it — Marx  knew,  but  Marx  is  dead. 

We  only  know  that  it  is  not  an  hour  of  continuous 
labor  by  a  skilled  mechanic— any  skilled  mechanic; 
for  labor,  as  he  uses  the  term,  means  unskilled  labor. 
That  leaves  us  at  sea  again,  for  unskilled  labor  is  but 
an  arbitrary  term  to  differentiate  between  those  who 

[239] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

are  in  what  we  call  the  handicrafts  and  those  who  are 
not;  in  philosophy  there  is  no  such  thing  as  unskilled 
labor.  If  I  were  called  on  to-night  to  go  dig  in  a  ditch, 
I  should  have  to  learn  how  to  use  a  spade.  The  mon- 
key and  the  millionaire  are  alike  in  this — neither  of 
them  knows  how  to  use  a  spade.  What,  then,  is  an 
hour  of  unskilled  labor?  However,  why  worry  about 
it?  Our  foundation,  you  know,  is  that  there  is  no 
God.  Whatever  it  is,  it  is  to  be  the  measure  of  value 
in  the  Socialist  world. 

All  men  have  it ;  that  is,  all  men  who  are  not  weak, 
or  old,  or  too  young.  But  never  mind  them;  never 
mind  anything  that  is  sensible  and  true.  How  can  a 
fact  stand  on  the  foundation  that  there  is  no  God?  If 
you  are  going  to  introduce  facts  here,  they  will  sink 
right  through  our  broad  but  unsubstantial  base,  be- 
cause, while  many  men  have  seen  a  fog  upon  a  moun- 
tain, no  man  but  a  Socialist  has  ever  seen  a  mountain 
upon  a  fog. 

Let  us,  then,  take  at  its  face  value  this  labor-hour. 
It  is  to  be  the  currency  of  the  cooperative  common- 
wealth that  is  to  follow  the  revolution.  Money  is  to 
be  abolished  because  money  is  capital,  and  capital  is  a 
vicious  oppression-serving  reflex  of  economic  condi- 
tions, devised  long  ago,  doubtless,  by  that  same  mon- 
key-man who  invented  God.  It  is  just  like  religion, 
marriage,  and  patriotism,  and  that  contemptible  bour- 
geois weakness — morality. 

They  are  all  at  war  with  the  philosophy  of  Social- 
ism, there  will  be  no  room  for  any  of  them  in  the  co- 
operative commonwealth.  Probably  frost  and  snow, 
and  birth  and  death  also,  are  economic  reflexes ;  one  of 

[240] 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

these  at  least  the  rationalistic  science  of  eugenics  pro- 
poses to  abolish  in  part;  doubtless  in  the  glad  new 
time  they  will  all  be  abolished,  somehow.  For  that  is 
the  way  all  these  reforms  are  to  be  accomplished — 
just  somehow. 

I  have  been  for  twenty  years  reading  Socialist  liter- 
ature and  attending  Socialist  meetings  and  talking  to 
Socialist  orators,  in  the  hope  that  there  might  be 
something  for  humanity  in  all  this,  some  pot  of  gold 
at  the  rainbow's  end,  and  always  the  answer  to  my 
"How?"  has  been  the  same — first,  let  us  have  revolu- 
tion, and  the  reconstruction  will  be  managed  some- 
how. The  old  Voltairism,  the  old  analysis,  the  taking 
of  things  apart !  Under  God  men  build  up,  they  con- 
struct; under  rationalism  they  tear  down,  they  de- 
stroy. 

I  have  said  this  thing  is  of  foreign  origin  and  for- 
eign growth.  How  comes  it,  then,  that  we  find  it  here, 
in  a  nation  "under  God"  ?  Because  similar  causes  will, 
everywhere  and  forever,  produce  similar  effects.  We 
thrust  out  privilege  in  our  Revolution,  and  set  the  face 
of  the  new  nation  forever  against  it.  But  it  found  its 
way  in  again  until  its  recognition  by  the  people  in  the 
form  of  slave-ownership  led  to  its  expulsion  once 
more. 

And  now  it  is  manifesting  itself  in  industry,  and  we 
have  labor  ground  down  and  oppressed,  we  have 
babies  working  in  mills,  we  have  vast  populations 
that  do  not  speak  our  language,  do  not  understand 
our  laws,  do  not  live  our  life,  but  do  out  of  their  deep 
misery  send  up  class  hatred,  flames  that  privilege  has 
enkindled  and  that  Socialism  fans.  In  this  nation, 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

dedicated  to  equality,  there  is  not  equality  before  the 
law. 

Some  men,  who  fear  Socialism  not  because  it  is  a 
bad  thing,  but  because  it  may  hurt  them,  will  say  that 
this  is  preaching  class  hatred.  It  isn't — it  is  telling 
the  truth.  You  cannot  kill  this  thing  with  a  lie.  You 
must  kill  it  with  the  truth.  And  when  we  tell  this 
truth,  when  we  say  that  in  this  country  men  are  not 
always  equal  before  the  law,  we  must  also  say  that  if 
the  courts  are  sometimes  respecters  of  persons  here, 
they  are  here  less  respecters  of  persons  than  any- 
where else  in  the  world  of  God — for  that  also  is  true. 
Nowhere  in  the  wide  world  has  the  man,  naked  of  all 
rank  and  power  and  wealth,  more  chance  of  obtaining 
pure  justice  than  under  this  flag,  which  Socialism 
would  tear  down  and  replace  with  its  red  international 
banner — and  that  is  also  true. 

In  this  nation  under  God,  of  all  .nations,  the  funda- 
mental law  prescribes  absolute  equality;  and  where 
there  is  aberration  from  that  principle,  the  fault  is 
not  with  the  nation  or  its  fundamental  law,  but  with 
the  weakness  of  human  nature,  to  cure  which  does  not 
lie  in  Socialism,  but  in  the  religion  of  God. 

But  it  is  true  that  privilege  has  done  some  evil  in 
the  courts — as,  indeed,  where  has  it  not  done  evil? 
And  it  has  done  much  evil  in  our  political  life.  And 
worse  still,  because  here  it  cannot  claim  the  right  to 
rob  as  an  open  and  a  legal  right,  it  has  had  to  accom- 
plish its  ends  by  stealth,  by  falsehood,  and  by  bribery; 
and  so  it  has  weakened  our  morality  and  so  affected 
many  of  us  that  we  cannot  longer  bear  the  thought  of 
a  just  and  righteous  God.  Some  divinity  we  must 

[242] 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

have,  because  privilege—wiser  in  its  generation  than 
Intellectualism— knows  that  the  bare  lie  of  a  no-God 
will  not  go  down  with  the  world;  but  let  it  be  a  vague 
and  far-away  divinity.  Let  us  subsidize  agnosticism 
in  the  colleges  by  endowments  made  up  of  bonds  of 
that  corporation  that  has  imported  its  thousands 
upon  thousands  of  laborers  whose  ignorance  of  our 
language  and  our  laws  makes  possible  their  employ- 
ment for  seven  days  a  week  with  twenty-four-hour 
shifts  to  vary  the  monotony.  Let  us  forget  that 
"wops"  are  human  beings  made  in  the  image  of  God, 
just  as  the  nobility  of  France  forgot  that  its  "canaille" 
were  human  beings  whom  also  God  had  made  in  his 
image. 

Do  you  suppose  privilege,  that  so  forgets,  wants  to 
believe  in  a  Christ?  No — it  isn't  possible,  comfort- 
able. Real  obligations  with  sharp  edges  are  too  in- 
convenient; a  real  God  is  too  terrible.  Better  accept 
the  Darwinian  theory  of  evolution  from  science,  now 
that  science  is  getting  rid  of  it,  having  found  it  not 
only  unproven  but  unprovable;  better  level  down  all 
creeds  so  that  they  are  all  alike,  which  will  be  when 
they  are  all  whittled  away;  better  dabble  in  this  Intel- 
lectualism of  Europe,  where  privilege  is  ancient  and 
legal  and  fashionable,  if  not  respectable. 

And  so  we  create  a  great  fund  for  such  colleges  as 
shall  abandon  Christ,  having  been  founded  in  his 
name.  We  say  to  college  presidents  and  college  pro- 
fessors, "You  shall  have  a  pension  in  your  old  age, 
provided  you  have  not  taught  as  truth  that  Jehovah 
of  the  Jews  was  God,  and  Christ,  who  walked  on  earth, 
was  his  divine  Son." 

[243] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

And  our  public  schools !  The  pity  of  it !  We  could 
leave  the  colleges  to  materialism,  to  nothingism,  if  it 
had  to  be  so,  but  are  we  going  to  sit  silent  by  while 
the  little  children  of  whom  Christ  said,  "Suffer  them 
to  come  unto  me,"  are  turned  over  to  the  Intellectuals, 
to  the  teachers  of  cast-off  science,  to  the  materialism 
and  nothingism  whose  political  manifestation  is  So- 
cialism? 

Not  if  we  are  men  with  sanity  left  in  our  heads! 
Not  if  we  are  still  a  nation  "under  God,"  "conceived 
in  liberty,  and  dedicated  to  the  proposition  that  all 
men  are  created  equal." 

To  pass  the  plastic  years  in  a  godless  school,  to 
leave  it  with  no  faith  to  enlighten  them,  with  no  belief 
in  their  accountability  to  God  to  hold  them  true,  with 
a  false  notion  of  life  and  its  meaning;  to  find  the 
struggle  for  subsistence  hard,  and  on  the  corner  or  in 
the  club  the  Socialist  with  his  gospel  of  hatred  which 
he  calls  "class-consciousness,"  his  sneer  at  God,  his 
easy  plan  of  conduct,  and  his  somehow  political 
programme  of  making  life  easy  to  live — what  re- 
sults? 

What  have  we  to  oppose  to  all  this?  The  truth,  the 
American  ideal  of  a  "nation  under  God,"  conceived  in 
liberty  and  dedicated  to  equality,  which  is  always  new 
because  always  true. 

We  must  regain  for  God  the  children  of  the  nation. 
If  we  were  all  of  one  creed,  it  might  be  done  through 
our  present  public-school  system.  But  we  are  of  many 
creeds,  so  that  the  only  practicable  plan,  and  the  only 
just  plan,  is  to  let  each  creed  teach  its  own,  and  let  the 
state  pay,  out  of  the  taxes  collected  from  all,  a  just 

£244] 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

compensation  to  such  educational  agency,  secular  or 
religious,  for  the  educational  work  it  shall  perform. 

In  this  way  will  we  best  meet  this  new  peril;  in  this 
way  will  we  best  destroy,  on  the  one  hand,  the  privi- 
lege that  generates  class  hatred,  and,  on  the  other,  the 
false  philosophy  that  would  transmute  that  hatred 
into  Socialism. 

It  is  an  evil  thing  we  have  to  conquer.  If  it  were 
only  the  Intellectuals,  we  might  let  them  babble  away 
in  their  own  little  insane  asylums,  while  the  rest  of  us 
go  on  with  the  work  of  the  world.  But  here  is  this 
vast  army  suffering  from  real  social  injustice,  and 
here  are  those  Intellectuals  telling  this  army  to  over- 
turn the  government,  break  up  and  throw  away  the 
Constitution,  close  the  churches,  abandon  their  fam- 
ilies, and  they  shall  have  bread  without  sweating 
for  it. 

It  is  the  cruellest  lie  that  ever  came  out  of  hell.  But 
how  is  the  sufferer  to  know  it  is  a  lie?  He  must  toil  to 
keep  breath  in  his  body ;  what  time  has  he  to  measure 
and  to  weigh?  He  knows,  because  the  weight  of  it 
bends  down  his  back,  that  life  is  hard,  and  the  Intel- 
lectuals tell  him  they  have  a  plan  to  give  him  life  and 
ease  and  food  and  luxuries.  "The  whole  wealth  of  the 
world  is  yours,  and  yet  you  toil  and  starve,"  they  say 
to  him.  "Strike,  and  be— rich !"  Not  free,  but  rich. 

Think  of  the  effect  of  this  on  a  man  who  is  toiling, 
and  who  has  not  too  much  food.  How  can  one  know 
that  their  system  is  a  dream  of  madmen — up  there  in 
the  region  above  him,  the  Intellectuals,  the  smart 
men,  the  college  professors,  say  it  will  be  all  right,  and 
they  must  know. 

[245] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

Even  high  privilege  says,  with  a  propitiating  smile, 
that  "Socialism  has  no  terrors  for  him";  and  quite 
true  it  is  too,  because  if  privilege  doesn't  believe  in  a 
hereafter  for  its  spiritual  self,  what  need  it  care  for  the 
hereafter  of  the  Republic? 

Some  few  years  ago  our  American  Socialism  spoke 
softly  of  a  peaceful  revolution  and  a  ballot-box  cam- 
paign and  conquest.  But  as  it  grows  stronger  it  grows 
bolder,  and  now  we  hear  less  of  the  peaceful  revo- 
lution. 

They  are  feeling  their  strength,  they  grow  bold. 
The  talk  now  is  of  "direct  action."  That  means  that 
the  brute  is  getting  thirsty  for  blood.  That  is  the  es- 
sential barbarism  growling  out  a  little  impatiently  in 
this  philosophy  that  boasts  that  it  is  the  next  step  in 
civilization. 

In  Los  Angeles  they  take  as  a  candidate  a  lawyer 
who  has  been  counsel  for  dynamiters,  just  because  of 
the  significant  association.  Their  labor  organization 
is  the  Industrial  Workers  of  the  World,  their  cry  is 
for  the  general  strike. 

Listen  to  their  editor  who  has  hurried  from  New 
York  into  Massachusetts,  as  he  cries  out  to  the  poor 
mill-hands,  who  think  he  is  leading  them  for  their 
sakes,  "No  arbitration,  no  compromise !" 

They  do  not  want  better  wages  for  labor,  they  do 
not  want  peace — they  want  wide-spread  industrial 
war,  dynamiting  and  bloodshed,  and  a  crashing  fall  of 
this  Republic  Lincoln  loved,  so  that  in  their  beloved 
revolution  they  may  strut  and  gabble,  cheap  little 
warmed-over  Robespierres  and  second-hand  Mira- 
beaus,  and  try  to  set  up  their  crazy  government  on  the 

C246] 


THE  NATION  UNDER  GOD 

wreckage  of  a  nation  under  God,  conceived  in  liberty 
and  dedicated  to  equality. 

Blind  to  anything  like  a  fact,  they  cannot  see  that 
this  isn't  France  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago. 
There  isn't  here  the  depth  of  misery  that  was  there, 
although  there  is  more  than  there  should  be  and  more 
than  there  shall  be.  This  union  isn't  founded  on  privi- 
lege, as  was  the  tyranny  of  old  France. 

And,  more  than  all,  the  faith  in  God  still  holds  in 
America,  and  it  is  strongest  and  purest  right  on  the 
battle-line — in  the  very  ranks  of  labor  from  which  this 
Socialism  hopes  to  draw  its  strength.  Democracy 
lives  here  still,  and  her  strength  is  undiminished. 

And  justice — when  we  have  made  America  see 
what  justice  is — will  allow  Religion  to  resume  her  in- 
spiring function  in  the  education  of  the  child.  Labor 
shall  not  drink  this  cup  that  Socialism  holds  to  its  lips 
and  find  the  dregs  bitter  with  blasted  hope. 

But  in  our  coming  ordeal — and  he  is  blind  who  can- 
not see  it  coming — sanity  and  sobriety  and  the  spirit 
of  justice  must  rule  our  councils,  as  they  did  in  that 
other  great  ordeal  half  a  century  ago. 

The  people's  leaders  must  be,  not  demagogues,  not 
babblers,  not  new-idea-every-minute  reformers,  not 
gusty  mock-Mirabeaus,  but  men  of  courage  and  con- 
science and  sanity  and  sympathy  and  truth.  Marx 
must  not  become,  but  Lincoln  continue  to  be,  our  ideal 
statesman.  Not  rationalism,  but  God,  must  be  our 
guide. 

And  as  the  hope  of  Lincoln  will  come  true,  the  dead 
of  Gettysburg  and  every  other  field  where  patriots 
fell  under  the  flag  for  which  Socialism  would  substi- 

[247:] 


TWO  AND  TWO  MAKE  FOUR 

tute  its  banner  of  blood,  shall  not  have  died  in  vain — 
"government  of  the  people,  by  the  people,  for  the 
people,  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth,"  but  shall  live, 
blessing  more  and  more  with  the  fruit  of  justice  a  na- 
tion under  God. 


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